


Deny Deny Deny

by iamamuggle14



Series: In The Aftermath [1]
Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Don't worry it'll balance out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Good Friend Kiara (Outer Banks), Hurt/Comfort, I will try to fix the Kiara/Pope situation, Implied/Referenced Abuse, JJ (Outer Banks) Needs a Hug, JJ Has Feelings For Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)-centric, Jiara is endgame, John B. is actually a good friend, John B. is presumed dead, Kiara (Outer Banks) Needs a Hug, Kiara Has Feelings For JJ (Outer Banks), Missing Scenes, Other, Panic Attacks, Pogues (Outer Banks), Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 01, Protective JJ (Outer Banks), Protective Kiara, Sad Kiara (Outer Banks), Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Smoking, Swearing, This is going to be sad before it's happy folks, kinda two idiots in love without knowing it, mental disorder mentioned, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamamuggle14/pseuds/iamamuggle14
Summary: Later, Kiara would scold herself on how silly it was. To smell the angry ocean in a time where every other sense was demanding her attention, (the shouts from officers, the feel of JJ’s leg bouncing against hers, the pitch black waves that might just be the catalysts of it all), and feel comforted by the fact that she can smell it. The same ocean that her best friend is trying to survive in at that very moment. Her and John B. are smelling the same thing and if this is the closest she can get to him, her panicked brain tells herself, then she’ll have to take what she can get.That is, until Shoupe comes into her view with a sickened look on his face, one she’ll remember years down the road.The deep breaths she’s been taking are cut short by his words, cautious yet to-the-point, the same words that will revisit her thoughts countless times without her permission after tonight.Or Kiara and the Pogues try to move on from that night but sometimes fall short in doing a very good job at it.
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge, JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge, JJ & Kiara & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), Kiara & John B. Routledge, Kiara & Pope (Outer Banks), Momentary Kiara/Pope
Series: In The Aftermath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008015
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	1. Seeing is Different Than Believing

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 1x10  
> The Phantom, Pt. 2
> 
> Some tears along with some introspection. Enjoy :)

The smell was one of the last things that was anywhere near grounding enough for her. 

Sound seemed to lose its significance right away, the rain and the wind both whipping at the walls of the tents and any loose tarp laying around the maze of a setup. The volume made it nearly impossible to hear any of the calmer voices, despite there only being maybe a handful total. The shouting could still be heard, and Lord knows there was plenty of shouting. She stopped trying to understand what they were saying, at first her eyes landed on anyone who raised their voice, afraid they were somehow addressing her. After a while, she gave up, feeling more annoyed at the constant yelling and wondered why it felt like the whole island had gone to Hell. _Because it has_.

She could only vaguely feel Pope's hand on hers, sweaty but firm, although her own hand had started to become numb, pins and needles making it difficult to feel much at all. Her whole body had been covered in sweat ever since the cops had surrounded them at the docks. Once she got in the backseat, Pope and JJ by her sides, the leather seat made it impossible to feel comfortable. The same was true for the plastic folding chairs they were told to sit in. 

The taste of metallic was something she was used to, an unfavorable habit she had developed in the early years of school, chewing on the inside of her cheeks and biting her lips until they bled. Her mother had always reminded her she was doing it in her clipped voice, but it never stuck to stop her from doing it. It seemed for the last twenty-four hours it’s all she’s been doing. 

Looking around just made her nervous, sending her mind down dark holes as she looked out past all the disorder to the real problem; the storm. The crashing waves appeared as black as oil, the crests reaching unforgiving heights. 

But the smell, the scent of rain and everything that comes with it, along with the salt from the water, that was what was keeping her from completely losing touch. She squeezed Pope’s hand, glanced at peoples faces, drowning in the voices and disaster but none of it felt as validating as the smell. None of it seemed to prove she was actually living through a nightmare; none of it felt real. She remembers her father telling her that smell is one of the more powerful senses, as it can arouse memories and emotions without a conscious effort. Later, Kiara would scold herself on how silly it was. To smell the angry ocean in a time where every other sense was demanding her attention, (the shouts from officers, the feel of JJ’s leg bouncing against hers, the pitch black waves that might just be the catalysts of it all), and feel comforted by the fact that she can smell it. The same ocean that her best friend is trying to survive in at that very moment. Her and John B. are smelling the same thing and if this is the closest she can get to him, her panicked brain tells herself, then she’ll have to take what she can get. 

That is, until Shoupe comes into her view with a sickened look on his face, one she’ll remember years down the road. 

The deep breaths she’s been taking are cut short by his words, cautious yet to-the-point, the same words that will revisit her thoughts countless times without her permission after tonight. 

Popes eyes stop jumping around from person to person, from screen to screen and focus on the man. JJ’s hands stop fidgeting with his hat, his eyes leaving the spot on the ground from which he’s been staring ever since they got there, giving his attention to the officer as well. They both look pissed. 

After that, Kiara can’t feel anything except for nausea. Can’t see anything through her tears. Can’t hear anything but white noise, everything muddled to one sound. Her parents are there and she remembers telling them something but she doesn’t remember what. Arms wrap around her for a while, not feeling comforting, more suffocating, and she simply forgets how to breathe. She ends up sitting somehow, willing herself, forcing herself to take deep breaths, needing to not feel like she’s drifting away so much. She can still smell the water. A very small part of her is grateful, but it soon fades by the time she’s getting into her parents car, without her really realizing it. 

She can’t even bring herself to reach out to her Pogues, both of them looking completely lost. Pope is buried in his mother’s arms, his father’s hand resting on his back, but Heyward is looking elsewhere. Her eyes follow his gaze, landing on JJ, who’s being held back by two officers as he screams at Shoupe, a sound and sight she realizes is not helping with her sobs. 

Someone’s shushing her and she swallows hard, blinking rapidly and pulls her eyes away from the nightmare of a scene to see her mother leaning over her from the driver's seat to pull her seatbelt into place. Her hands rest on Kiara’s, which she didn’t notice were shaking so uncontrollably, and says something about going home. She tries to tell her no but it only comes out in panicked gasps, making her head spin. Her hands tingle again, numb, distant. 

And as she forces herself to close her eyes and slow her breathing, she takes a deep breath and realizes there’s no more salt. No more ocean. She tries a couple more times and nothing No more water. No more of her best friend. No more John B.

Everything comes crashing down all over again, reciprocating the very waves that killed John B. Routledge.   
\---  
Very few words were exchanged when they got home, none of which she would be able to recite. Her parents must have convinced Shoupe to postpone any form of questioning for later, if they had even planned on it in the first place. She doesn’t want to ask. Doesn’t really want to know. Some form of autopilot takes over her body, leading her to eventually step out of the car into the small river that was trailing down the driveway, walk into the house, exchange said words, and go straight to bed. She doesn’t disagree with the whole going to bed part, only that it posed the problem of having to get out of the bed if she needed to do anything. And anything is exactly what she needed to do, as the cold silence that fell over the house seemed louder than being in that damn tent.

The scary thing is she knows how much her parents won’t put in the effort to understand what happened. They will never see things the way she does, how JJ and Pope do, will never take the time to really know what went down.The thought makes her eyes wet all over again. That thought spirals to everyone else, everyone who still thinks that Peterkin died at the hands of John B.. Not only did he live in the Cut, everyone knowing him as Big John’s kid, Big John who died at sea… Now everyone thinks he’s a killer, and on top of all of that, no one is going to stomach the truth. The truth being that Peterkin wasn’t killed at the hands of a Routledge, but a Camerons. Everything that happened after tonight was just textbook. 

She rolls over a few times, trying to ease the pressure in her head. She’s only ever had a headache to this extent a few times in her life, sometimes from crying and sometimes from sickness or stress. She slowly moves her fingers across the comforter, trying to regain feeling in them. Maybe it’s the shaking, which has reached a level to worry even herself. Pope would tell her to eat something. JJ would pass her a blunt. John B…. She stares out of her window, raindrops caressing the smooth glass, the intensity not quite as prominent as it was an hour ago. Every once in a while she’ll hiccup, an annoying, repetitive spasm in her breathing that her sore lungs won’t let her forget. She drags her hand up to her head to massage her temples, the relentless pounding starting to become more than a minor pain. 

If she didn’t know better, she would think her body is telling her enough. _Enough is enough._ There are only so many tears you can cry. 

But apparently enough wasn’t enough, her mind would beg to differ, as everytime she closed her eyes, the scene played out. The thunder and lightning and crashing waves. The non-stop chatter and accusations in the tent, everyone running around, especially when the power came back. Popes stiff figure, his brain choosing fight over flight as his eyes scanned everyone and everything around him. JJ’s screaming, Popes denial. Wards glare. Her panic. JJ’s contagious stress. John B.’s farewell…

The look on his face when they all sent him off…

She could see the look on his face, the last look she ever saw on him, as if he were standing right next to her at this very moment. 

She let out an angry cry, quickly sitting up in bed, holding her head with both hands now. She’s never felt so weak, so vulnerable and so alone. It didn’t feel real, her best friend gone. It didn’t feel fair. Sure, they were stupid teenagers, sometimes slipping up and making some poor choices. He’s been irresponsible and irrational, sometimes a little too hotheaded, but that was just John B.. It’s how he’s always been. But he never deserved this.

She gets up and quickly walks into her bathroom, pulling open the mirrored cabinets and scanning the bottles. Shaving cream, hair spray, extra conditioner, ADHD pills, curl cream, menstrual relief pills, mouthwash, anxiety pills…

She reaches in and pulls out one of the smaller bottles, capsules for headaches, unconsciously taking a mental note to organize her shelves sometime. Throwing two small pills in her mouth, she grabs the blue cup next to the sink and starts filling it up, staring at herself in the mirror. She can only manage a couple of seconds, the events of the day evident all over her features. It’s probably only her imagination, though, because she only looks really tired, eyes swollen and bloodshot, not like her best friend just-

Her lungs do another spasm as she turns the sink off, bitterly shaking her head as she urges the thoughts away. Swallowing the water makes her more aware of the lump in her throat, so she downs another cup for good measure. 

Shutting off the light, she reaches for a hoodie hanging on the back of her door, trying not to think of all the campfires she’s sat through with that particular one. Nights where it was left smelling of smoke and bug spray, of sweat and sunscreen. Where she would fold the front over her legs which were pulled up to her stomach and one of the boys would throw the hood over her head after tucking her hair in. Where they would pull the strings so she only had a small hole to look through as they enthusiastically reenacted funny stories around the fire, sometimes making fun of each other's shadows. Morning where she would wake up on the porch of the Chateau, noticing she spilled beer on it while she heard one of the boys complain in a groggy voice that they didn’t put enough bug spray on…

All of this runs through her head in seconds, almost mocking her; once she starts thinking she can’t really stop. If that means almost every item in her room is going to remind her of him, then that is now her reality, she supposes dolefully.

She decides the best way to keep her sanity at the moment is to leave the room and that turns into leaving the house altogether. 

As she slides into her sandals, the next most invasive thought comes to mind. _Where are Pope and JJ?_ The thought had been tickling the back of her head ever since she laid down in her bed. She immediately assumes Heyward took them both. She hopes that’s the case. That’s a good place for them right now. 

Her father must’ve brought her car home, she thinks absently, as she reaches for her keys on the table beside the front door. Quietly opening the door, she slips out and silently closes it, praying she didn’t wake them up. She doesn’t know if she has it in her to explain to them why she wants to leave so badly. Needs to. 

On the drive over to the only place she feels the need to be right now, her thoughts race each other as she runs her tongue around her mouth. The ripped up feeling has led to infection in the past, one of the many reasons for the anxiety meds in her bathroom cabinet. She starts cursing out loud at the thought of not bringing them with her, as her stomach starts to flip. That brings her to her next realization of _you didn’t bring anything. What are you planning on doing, really? Go to his house and cry? Then what?_ She starts to forgive herself for not having made a so-called plan, but before she gets the chance, she sloppily pulls over, slams on the breaks and stumbles out of the seat, trying her best to keep the vomit away from her car and out of her hair. 

That’s the last thing she needs tonight.  
\---  
She sits in the driveway for what must be twenty minutes, just staring. Because she didn’t think this far, she doesn’t expect anything from just sitting. However, she realizes too late that if she was trying to avoid reminders of John B. in her room, then driving to his house might’ve not been the best option. 

She silently forgives herself, though, also knowing that it’s not her accepting his death by any means. It’s not even a thought she wants to think.

Her heart aches in a way she’s never felt before as she walks up to the porch. The sky appears as though it could swallow the entire island and then some. The trees stand as black silhouettes, almost drooping down from all of the rain, but also in hindsight of the damage the storm has brought. The wind has died down some, but still blows her hair around in the short distance from her car to the screened-in porch. It’s all she can hear. It’s almost peaceful. The rain has stopped, but she can tell from the air it’s not finished yet. 

Her breath catches in her throat when she notices the light. Up until now, the short lived plan she had thought up went something along the lines of drive, arrive, sit outside and feel something, don’t think so hard. That is, until she noticed the light inside the Chateau. She stops for a moment, assessing her next move. Stepping through the creaky screen door, her still swollen eyes land on the floor, where scattered cans and bottles lay. She blinks a few times, her mind slower than usual and maybe it’s because she’s been up for an ungodly amount of hours or maybe it’s from all of the crying, but when she thinks _John B._ and _alive_ , she has to physically make a disgusted face. 

Granted, it’s an understandable quick conclusion due to the fact that the living room always had cans on the floor (albeit maybe a little less than now), along with the fact that not a single part of her has accepted the words she was told only a couple of hours ago. Regardless, it still makes her insides cringe at the thought. Her mind immediately focuses on the thought that follows. 

“JJ?”

She hasn't spoken in so long, her voice comes out strained and cracks a bit at use. She has to swallow and clear her throat before calling out again. She knows Pope isn’t here; his parents wouldn’t let him leave so soon after everything that’s happened. But then if it is JJ, her brain reminds her, he’s here to be alone and he’s alone for a reason. This isn’t the first fight that she’s had with her brain tonight, but it is tiring her further to try to reason with her heart right now. The thought of JJ alone, after tonight, after everything, scares her enough to lead her to the back of the house, where she can see a very faint figure in the hammock. 

She sighs, tears wanting to fill her eyes all of a sudden.

“JJ.” she calls out again, less like a question, quieter too. It still causes him to jump a little at his name. She can make out his light hair from the stream of light from the house. For a second, she’s annoyed at the darkness. She can’t really see him that well, which is causing her heart to squeeze a little tighter each step she takes towards him. She knows he’s not put together in his usual JJ way if he’s out here by himself. There was a light sprinkle starting up, causing her to walk with a little less caution and a little more purpose. She swallows again, summoning strength in her voice. 

“I thought you were with Pope.” Is all that comes to mind. It sounds stupid, but it’s all she’s got at the moment. He doesn't seem to notice or mind, just shrugs, looking as though trying not to say too much or even look at her. She’s seen this reaction before, although it doesn’t make it any easier. 

“JJ?”

“Hm?”

She pauses, finding some patience, not needing to look too far. 

“Why don’t you come inside, it’s starting to rain again.” she says in a gentle voice. She can smell a hint of alcohol from where she’s standing. He doesn’t move. 

“JJ-”

“D’you think they’re still out there?” he asks, voice unsteady and hoarse, lost. She hesitates, glancing out to the water where he lazily gestured before turning towards him again.

“What?”

He sits up, speaking a little louder, a fake laugh in his voice. 

“Do you think they’re still alive?”

She doesn’t answer him this time, just stares at him, trying to read into where he was going with this. She shakes her head rhetorically even though he can’t see her, feeling uneasy. 

“Because I cannot be around another person who thinks they’re actually still out there, Kie. I can’t. I mean when Ward Cameron, a Kook of all people, is involved, of course it’s John B. who gets the shit end of the stick. Every time.”

She creases her eyebrows, still looking down on him, not finding many words to give him, trying to ignore the comparison of John B. dying to ‘getting the shit end of the stick’. 

He shakes his head. “You should’a heard Pope's parents-”

“You know they mean well-” He scoffs at that. She sniffs, running a hand through her hair, blinking down at him.

“Okay, please just come inside.” she manages, trying to keep her voice steady. The rain has started to come down a little harder now, although it doesn’t even look like he notices it. He waits a beat, nodding slowly, then stands, almost falling in the process. She grabs his arm and he takes a moment to right himself, doing a poor job at it. His back is completely wet from sitting in the hammock. Supporting almost half his weight, she guides him to the back door, then through the hallways to the living room, sitting both of them down on the pull-out. 

Finally getting a good look at him, causes the weight on her chest to grow heavier. He looks as bad as she feels, if not worse. _Well,_ she thinks, _drunk. Drunk and grieving._ Eyes a little too lost. She looks away then, removing the wet hoodie and throws it to the side, wondering if this was all a mistake. Both of them are wet now, the rain pouring in buckets causing white noise all around them. He looks utterly exhausted, red rimmed and swollen eyes giving away the fact that he had been crying. She runs a hand through her damp hair again as he does the same, his hand sliding down his face.

“Pope thinks they made it.” It’s all he says before giving another weak laugh, the same laugh he uses when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. “Pope, of all people-”

“It’s okay to be upset-”

“Is it?” he asks, this time louder, this time more serious. “‘Cause we can talk about how unfair this whole thing is, about who really deserves what, but at the end of the day, who’s really gonna care about John B.’s death?” He says it so bitterly, she flinches at the last word. Hearing it feels wrong. It sounds misplaced. _He already wants revenge,_ she thinks, _and no one is going to pay for it any time soon._ It’s a lot to unpack, she admits to herself as she stares at the ground. 

Of course he would be angry about it. Even if he acts the way he acts, she knows deep down a small part of him, a part he will only ever save for himself, thinks John B. 's alive. Hopes, even. Hope isn’t a color JJ wears often, either. She swallows again, looking around the floor.

“Just let them think what they want to think,” she quietly improvises, “there’s no point in changing their minds, they’re gonna think whatever they want to think, whether he did it or not-”

“No point? It’s bad enough he’s dead, Kiara, you think he deserves to be seen as a murderer too?”

There’s a small stretch of just the sound of howling wind and angry rain beating the walls and the roof. 

“You know the answer to that.” she says coldly. Logically, she knows that he’s not fighting with _her_ but with the whole situation, everything that’s surrounding them, that has been for some time. She can tell he’s sick of it, all the not believing and the pushing it all under the rug. She can tell he’s tired. She can tell he’s really hurting. She can see these things, even if he doesn’t want them to show, every other time constantly making a conscious effort to mislead and to dissuade. Right now, though, he must not care. He’s a good liar and hides things well, but she’s had practice in understanding when he needs help. The way he’s holding his head, breathing uneven, limbs stiff, it’s simultaneously a rare sight and a dead giveaway. One that makes her heart feel heavy. That’s why she ignores the angry part of her that feels accused of not caring and of not wanting to _fix things._ She trusts him enough to know exactly where he’s coming from. A place of panic. A place of needing to put the blame on someone, to color it balck and white so it’s easier. 

But nothing about this is easy. And if she was confident in anything, it’s the fact that both of them know that much. 

The knot in her throat tightens when she contemplates it all. 

“I’m sorry, Kie. I didn’t mean-” he stops and takes a deep breath. Then another. She knows what happens next, letting out a choked cry at the thought, as she pushes herself over to him. 

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head and tries to steady her voice as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her hands shaking madly. “It’s okay.”

He only hesitates for a second, bringing his arms around her waist when she continues the mantra. He mumbles something about not understanding before he himself chokes out a sob. She brings her hand up to the back of his neck as a sort of reassurance, for the both of them. 

One of the worst feelings she knows of is when one of the Pogues ends up in her arms, when it’s not out of dancing around on the beach or playfully wrestling for the last bit of food. When Popes grandmother had passed away, his arms went slack as she held him at the funeral, feeling the shake of his body as he cried. Or one late night after Big John was finally proclaimed dead, when John B. had had a little too much to drink and it finally set in when they were sitting around the fire, the way he couldn’t seem to catch his breath while she rubbed his back. Or the night when the purples and blues and pinks danced across JJ’s bruised skin as she reached for him like a lifeline, as if he would break, in all the meanings of the word, if they hadn’t leaned on each other the way they did, just holding on. 

Seeing other people in pain had always brought Kiara to a place of _how do I make them feel better?_ along with some pain of her own at the fact that they were in pain in the first place, but also at the prospect that she might not be able to make them feel better. 

So sitting on the faded pull-out was something of a challenge and a relief. They both shook and gasped for air, trying to hold the other together, it seemed. But while she urges him to just feel and not bottle up, she could feel her own pain finding an outlet. It wasn’t just him who was in pain this time. They both had enough to go around now and she knew it would take time to make each other feel better this time. 


	2. Sweat and Salt and Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To be fair, Pope, talking about dead bodies never really made anyone a good flirt.”
> 
> Or Kiara and Pope talk and Kiara slips up after reminiscing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit lighter and was very fun to write! I believe Kiara is a very resilient yet sensitive person and despite both traits being positive, sometimes they don't mix well.

Kiara Carrera found herself wanting to throw the phone by the time the call ended and she wasn’t a violent person by any means. The first couple of times it rang, she was sleeping soundly on the squeaky couch, her hair tangled in someone else's arm rather than her own. She didn’t make anything of it at first, having had a vague feeling on who could be calling her that early in the morning and she decided she would let her phone die before answering. Irresponsible, yeah. But she also knew she didn’t have many words for her mother at the time. 

Then she heard someone tiredly mumble something about turning of “the fucking alarm” and she slowly realized who’s arm her hair was caught under. Finally coming to, she tried to recollect the events leading up to JJ’s stomach laying so close to her head as she pulled her hair out from under his limp arm and reached for her phone. Just as she expected, her mother had been calling for over an hour, numerous missed calls accumulating on her lock screen along with a few texts from her dad and two texts from Pope. How her phone hadn’t completely died yet was beyond her. 

After that, while attempting to subdue her yawns, she quietly made her way to the stiff loveseat on the screened-in porch and proceeded to further solidify the notion that even decent communication with her mother was just not her specialty. Unachievable, even. It would always be out of reach, she thought, as she rubbed her eyes in the morning light. 

There was a slight chill to the air and she couldn’t tell whether it was because of the frosty dew on the small patches of grass surrounding the yard or due to how early it was. The sky was a muted blue. Brighter than she expected for being so early, especially after a night of whatever the hell Mother Nature had decided to cook up and send their way. She hadn’t changed her clothes before falling asleep last night, which at the time were damp from standing out in the rain. They now had a stale feeling to them, rough against her cold skin. 

Her headache came back, along with a stomach pain from not eating for so long. Even when she tried, she couldn’t remember her last meal, and whatever it was, she threw it up last night anyways. Her eyes were still swollen as well. Overall, she felt pretty shitty. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, she adjusts herself on the edge of the small couch and studies her phone again, this time reading Pope’s texts. One from last night, ‘are you okay?’ and one from not too long ago, ‘can we talk?’.

Thinking of Pope reminded her of last night, when JJ had told her how Pope was in pure denial. She remembered the look on John B.’s face when someone tried to reason with him that his father was dead. Good and gone. She remembered the way he would shut down, the way he denied it like his life depended on it. She didn’t want Pope or JJ to hurt like that. She didn’t want to reach a point she once feared John B. had reached, one of delusions, never-ending concocting and excuses. As impossible as it seemed, accepting it was going to be what got them all through whatever the hell was happening. 

Then again, she thought solemnly, not all of them had the healthiest coping mechanisms.

“Everything good?” A drowsy sounding voice asks from beside her. Turning her head in a jerk, she calms at the sight of JJ, lazily leaning in the door frame, plastic bottle in hand as he looks over to her with foggy eyes, his head tilted to the side. Once again, matching how she feels. At least he looks somewhat well rested, she thinks. Clothes wrinkled and hair sticking up in weird spots, but otherwise rested. 

“Huh?”

“Is everything-”

“-Yeah.” _Obviously not_ and _as good as they can be_ both float around her head for a second as she responds. She gives a small smile, looking back down into her lap.

“Sorry if I woke you up.” she mumbles, staring at the floorboards when she hears him slowly walk over and lower himself next to her. He too stares, but only for a second, glancing at her and playfully shaking his head with energy he didn’t seem to have a moment ago. 

“Nah. It wasn’t the yelling, if that’s what you mean, but more of that-” he shakes the water bottle towards the phone in her hand, “-obnoxious ringtone.”

She blinks, first at the space between the water bottle and the phone, then at him, a small smile slowly playing on her lips. 

“Are you attempting a joke right now?”

He tips the crinkling bottle back, raising his eyebrows in an _I guess so_ way. 

She lets out a soft exhale of a laugh, momentarily feeling like it’s wrong because _it’s not even been a whole day_ but also feeling it’s right because _it’s JJ_. 

“Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” she says seriously, “but it came with the phone.”

“It shouldn’t’ve.” he quips without missing a beat, looking down at the phone again but now with mock disgust. 

“You don’t think it had anything to do with when it went off, ‘cause… then I understand.” She emphasizes the ‘when’. He ponders it, then nods once.

“I’m open to the possibility.”

This is normal, she thinks, and she likes normal. But just when she’s about to poke fun at him and the plastic water bottle (and by poke fun, actually just make a disguised comment on how it’s environmentally irresponsible of him, to which he would then smile the way he does when she makes those sorts of comments, the way she uses humor to really drive the point home) her eyes land on John B.’s van. The _empty_ van. 

And just like that, her sails instantly lose what little amount of precious wind they had managed to accumulate. 

They’re both quiet then because he sees it too, first on her face, then for himself. The air is still for five heartbeats. 

“Fuck, JJ.”

Three more. 

“I know.”  
\--  
Her hands fidget with one of her necklaces as she stares at the door, not knowing what to expect next. After showering, a fresh set of clothes and wet hair had made her feel more human, more refreshed than she had anticipated, although the headache still made her temples dully throb. She tries to push down the annoyance she feels at the fact that Pope had asked to meet at his house instead of somewhere where there wouldn’t be overly concerned adults. Or anyone else, really. She knew she wasn’t ready to have that conversation without even consciously considering it and she’s a little lost on the fact that Pope wasn’t thinking the same way. She didn’t need pity, she needed understanding, they all did, but she knew they weren’t about to get it. It would take time, if it came. And it was all still too fresh. 

She suddenly longed to be in the company of the only two people who understood it all, to not have to speak but just sit and let the silence speak for itself. The Pogues were good at that, she thought fondly. 

“Kiara?” Popes mothers voice breaks through her thoughts, gentle and a little surprised. Kiara put on as close to a genuine smile as she could manage, finding it relatively effortless under the woman's kind eyes. 

“Hi Mrs. Heyward,” she spoke slowly, trying to hide her nerves. She doesn’t know where they came from all of a sudden; she’s spoken to her plenty of times before. Mrs. Heyward gives her a small smile and Kiara tries not to interpret it as pity. 

“Pope mentioned something about meeting with you today,” Kiara can’t tell whether or not it’s a question, so she just nods, still running her fingers along the small chain around her neck. The woman hesitates, glancing behind her before stepping out of the house, pulling the door with her a bit. 

“Hun, I know you kids have been through a lot lately,” she spoke as if picking her words carefully, trying not to be overheard, “but you should know, we’re here if you need anything. You’ve been good for Pope, whether we approve of it or not,” she adds the last part with humor in her voice, winking and giving a low laugh. Kiara tries to reciprocate her lightness but falls a little short, at least on the inside. It was too soon, she thinks soberly. She knew how Heyward felt about them, at least how he felt about John B. and JJ, hanging around his son nearly every day. He always gave off a sense of disapproval towards them, seeing them as roadblocks in Popes choices. 

She chooses to just take it. If not for herself then for Pope. If his parents wanted to reach out, maybe they felt truly bad, and she wasn’t about to outwardly fight them.

“That means a lot, Mrs. Heyward.” She looks happy with the response. 

“That goes for your other friend, too.”

Something inside her relaxes at the notion, a worry she didn’t know she had up until now, now that John B. was gone. JJ. Every night that Kiara had spent over at the Chateau, JJ was there. He practically lived there. She didn’t blame him, of course, none of them did. But the fishing shack didn’t belong to John B. anymore because it didn’t belong to anyone anymore, so where does that leave JJ? Her stomach sinks. _Did Pope's parents know about his father? Was that what she was referring to?_

Just then, a familiar face appears in the gap between the door and the wall. Pope looks between his mom and Kiara, trying to look nonchalant as he steps beside her. 

“You ready?” he asks her as he turns to hug his mom.

She quickly looks him over trying to gauge his mood, stoic the only word coming to mind. She nods. 

“Yup.”  
\--  
They walked side by side until they reached the end of the dock, the wood no longer damp from the storm thanks to the dry heat that had climbed since she sat on the loveseat on the porch of the Chateau. They both sat, Popes legs pulled up to his chest as he looked between the water and Kiara, her legs hanging over the edge, her feet nearly touching the water. He looked tired. 

“Have you spoken to JJ?”

Her brain flashes to moments from the previous night as she nods. 

“How is he?”

“He’s… JJ,” For a second she contemplates telling him about how upset JJ seemed at the fact that he didn’t believe the cops, but decides against the direction of conversation. “He’s just sorta pissed.”

Pope doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at her thoughtfully, as if to say _aren’t we all?_

Instead, it’s “Once he gets out of his head, he’ll be alright.”

She doesn’t believe a word of it but doesn’t push. She can tell something else is on his mind, though, because he’s never been good at hiding his emotions in the way he holds himself. 

“Kiara.”

She looks at him.

“I… I don’t think it’s a good time, right now. For this,” -he gestures between them- “for us.”

Confused, she pauses and blinks at him a couple of times.

“I want this to work, I do, but...” he stops, looking at his hands, then back at her, “I just don’t know if it’s best for either of us right now.”

The last two days had gone by so fast, she forgot about the kiss for a moment, along with his sloppy confession. _How much of it had been genuine? Were they even technically together?_ He sounded like he was trying to break up with her and for a second she can’t help but feel hurt. 

“Uh… yeah, um-” she was blushing from a small amount of embarrassment, for being put on the spot. Her brain was slow from being caught off guard, she could tell by the way his words seem to spill at a speed she couldn’t make sense of. 

She cared for Pope. Considered him family. She loved him but a rational part of her knew it wasn’t in the way she would need for it to work. He was her best friend. She remembered clinging to him in a moment of fear and stress because he was… familiar? Close? She would never say it out loud because even in her head, it sounded wrong. It sounded lousy as hell. Emotions can be lousy sometimes, though. Maybe she would never understand herself well enough to know why she did it, but it didn’t quite justify it. She felt pathetic even trying to justify it, coming to the conclusion that this might have to be something they put behind themselves. Forgive and forget. Pope had given her the impression that there were strings attached to the kiss, so it made it harder for her to brush it off. She’s had experience with kisses, but she wasn’t about to treat this as one of those ones if it meant Pope wasn’t on the same page. 

He seems to notice her discomfort, or at least lack of response, trying to fix it before things got too uncomfortable. 

“I-I mean, it was wrong- not wrong! I mean poorly timed-”

“Yeah! Yeah, no, you’re right, Pope. It’s… I mean it was a lot…”

Too late, but good effort. 

“I think I just panicked.” he says quickly, very matter-of-factly, very Pope-like, taking his baseball cap off and twirling it in his hand. She was nodding absently, trying to hide a smile, wondering if he was going to elaborate. She didn’t want to laugh but really couldn’t help herself. 

“I just feel like-” he looks at her and laughs too, a laugh that says he knows how fucked up it is to be doing it, “so much shit was happening.” He nods, as if approving it. 

“It’s okay,” her smile falters a bit as she reaches out her hand, offering to start their handshake. He follows, understanding that by doing it, it meant they didn’t need to talk about it anymore, that all that needed to be said was said. 

She then felt the subtle silence start to creep its way around them, the same silence that seems to take over whenever she’s not consciously trying to fill the air with words. The one that forces her to try to shake the idea that something’s missing.

 _It’s a someone_ she thinks bitterly, as if her thoughts were taunting the loss of control she felt in these moments. She looks at Pope, wondering if he feels it too. She clears her throat. 

“I have to work today.” she says without thinking, pulling out her phone to check the time. It’s not a lie, as much as she hated the idea of serving tables with plenty of people just sitting around as if the last couple of days haven’t been a living hell. Pope seems to sense her dislike for the idea as he starts to stand. 

“Maybe the distraction will be nice.” He tries and she has to physically hold back her admiration for his ability of being so goddamn optimistic.   
\--  
 _The humid air made her clothes stick to her body in a way she will always find uncomfortable, she’s accepted that much. And it was annoying having to take two showers a day sometimes, because of sweat and salt and sand. Trying to sleep with bug bites and sunburn was always a bitch. But as she sat in the small camping chair under the black star speckled sky, all she could think about was how much weight came off her chest when they planned a night together on the beach. Or how easily she could breathe when she heard them hollering on their boards as she sat under the burning sunset. Or how relaxed she felt when they laughed until they cried as they were all trying to wake up on the small boat at sunrise (none of them were ever known for being morning people). None of the nuisances phased her because she truly felt happiest in moments like this._

_“JB, I swear to God, bro, you were the epitome of shit-faced.” JJ emphasizes ‘epitome’, raising his eyebrows as if there was no room for debate._

_Obviously he was wrong._

_John B. fakes a look of hurt, throwing his hands to his chest and dropping his jaw dramatically. “Are you saying I can’t flirt sober? Do you have such little faith in me-”_

_“I’ve seen you flirt sober and I hate to agree with JJ-” Pope narrowly misses a messy swat from the blond, “-but you were definitely not sober.” He looks between the two, speaking as if referring to cold hard facts, like he can’t help but share the knowledge. There was an immediate rise in energy as they all started talking at once, Kiara sharing a look of horror with John B. and amusement with JJ._

_“Okay, okay, okay, Kie, you’re the tie breaker-” John B. interrupts._

_“It’s literally not a tie-” Pope deadpans._

_“Pope, shut up, Kie, go.”_

_She tries to hide a smile, raising her eyebrows to keep a straight face as she looks at the three boys. She can’t help but roll her eyes at the stupid request._

_“Be honest!” JJ shouts excitedly, jumping up from his own chair, standing next to John B., spilling his beer in the process. She clears her throat._

_“You mean like on a scale of Pope to JJ-”_

_It all starts up again as John B. runs his hand through his hair letting out an “oooh” while Pope gives a low whistle._

_“Kiara Carrera!” JJ gestures to her with his drink, as if proposing a toast, as she winks at him. He throws his head back laughing, almost losing his balance against John B. when he starts objecting again. He composes himself._

_“You know what, I think that breaks whatever fuckin’... tie we had here-” JJ circles his hand around the space between them as John B. holds his arms out as if to settle down a bunch of kids. Which is kind of what he’s doing._

_“To be fair, Pope, talking about dead bodies never really made anyone a good flirt.”_

_Pope, from where he’s sitting in an identical chair to Kiara’s right next to her, calmly throws his arm up in a lazy ‘shoo’ motion, sipping from his cup._

_“I think he’s resigned, bro.” JJ tells John B. while he carefully maneuvers some more sticks into the heart of the fire._

_“This was probably the least productive discussion I’ve ever taken part in, so cheers to that.” Kiara says as she holds up her own cup. John B. gives a small salute while Pope does a small bow in his seat. JJ lowers himself next to her chair, taking another drink from his cup. He swallows and shrugs._

_“I don’t know, I feel like I learned a lot-” JJ mumbles, knowing what he had coming as John B. picks up a small stick and throws it at him while Kiara just playfully nudges him in the shoulder, causing him to exaggerate his fall into the sand beside her. Pope just shakes his head and smiles, standing up to stretch and looks down at his friend who’s let his beer dump into the sand._

_John B. suddenly downs the rest of his drink while scrolling through his phone and climbs to his feet from where he was crouched, setting his cup back into the little circle of rocks in the sand. A reggae-esque song starts playing on his phone which he places in the cup holder of Pope’s chair. He throws his arm around Pope's shoulders, giving a shake before a small hug while running a hand through his own hair._

_“C’mon, Popey, dance with me!”_

_Kiara starts bobbing her head to the beat as she watches the two boys do a mix between a run and a skip, distancing themselves from the fire before they start a sad attempt at dancing to the tempo of the song. They were both laughing and loudly theorizing why the moon was so big. She couldn’t help the deep laugh that escaped her own throat as she stood, placing her cup in the cup holder and glancing down at JJ._

_He was quiet, looking oddly content with lying in the sand and staring up into the sky, a small smirk on his lips. She moves to step over his legs before positioning her body next to his, lying down beside him._

_“What are you smirking at?” she teases._

_He hesitates and as she tilts her head to the side, she can see the smirk grow._

_“Kie, if you’re waiting for some groundbreaking flirtation, you can just tell me, I won’t judge.” She can tell how much he’s enjoying this, it’s evident all over. It makes her heart warm. She looks away and smiles at the sky._

_“Damn, you’ve already let it go to your head.”_

_“Surprised?”_

_“Honestly?”_

_“No need, I think we’re both at an understanding.”_

_“Gotcha.”_

_“Of course.”_

_Connecting the stars with her eyes, she realizes the ground has never felt so nice._

_“No, no, no, no- I don’t wanna get wet, John B.! Stop! Stop it!” Pope shouts, his voice cracking as he rushes through his panic, to which John B. responded with “yes, yes, yes-” seemingly unable to keep his voice down to any normal volume._

_“I’m happy.” She hears, this time from beside her, making her turn her head again._

_“What?”_

_“That’s why I’m smiling.” He turns his head so their eyes meet in the flickering waves of light from the dying fire and beaming moonlight. She notes that this is one of the rare times where there were no bruises or cuts on his face. She hoped that was the case for the rest of his body as well, because he did look genuinely happy. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight._

_“Last I knew, that’s what people did, but maybe it’s changed-”_

_She interrupts with a laugh, sitting up and getting to her feet. “Dumbass.” Though she can barely get the word out as she shakes her head. She can hear the subtle transition into the next song, same genre, a little more upbeat. She places one foot on each side of his hips and reaches her hands down._

_“Come twirl with me, you flirt.” He makes it look like an effort, bringing his hands up to hers, but she can still see the smile in his eyes as he nods slowly._

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

_He jumps up last minute and wraps his arms around her waist, running with her towards the water. He spins her and all she can do is try not to get a stitch from laughing so hard. She almost loses her balance before catching herself in Pope’s arms as John B. comes up behind JJ, who yells “You wanted this!” to her as his face breaks in a fit of giggling as John B. picks him up and starts shouting “your turn!”._

_John B. and Pope eventually found their way back to the smoldering embers by the time Kiara found JJ’s arms again, this time one on her waist, while his hand held hers as they improvised a slow dance. The music, now quieter, was slower as well._

_She could feel their limbs growing heavy, their bodies slowly swaying out of the lack of energy from the events of the day. The sound of the water pushing and pulling was starting to lull both of them. She was so used to seeing JJ so alert and hyper that seeing him now, feeling the way his hand went slack in hers, it made her want to collapse out of exhaustion. Her face felt hot and she couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or how close she was to his neck._

_"JJ?"_

_"Hm?"_

_“I’m happy too.”_

The memory played itself out as she stared at the waves from the kitchen window. It was almost dark but she could still make out the shore and the whole thing put a lump in her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes as she reached for her glass, filling it with ice and water and tipping it back. It was a slow day, thankfully. She had convinced her dad that she wanted to stay in the kitchen for the majority of her shift if she could and he didn’t seem to have a problem with it. 

She was grateful. 

Popes observation was only half true. In the start of her shift, it was easy to just work and not think. But as the day came to close, her thoughts wandered. Pretty far, too. The hardwired habit of mentally making plans for the rest of the night took over and those plans almost always involved the Pogues. 

She starts to untie her apron, walking over to her bag hanging on the wall. She knew she was the voice of reason out of all of them, beside Pope. But she didn’t feel the rational part of her speaking up as clearly as it should right now. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t pissed. And the weight on her chest has not left yet. Maybe it was JJ rubbing off on her but she couldn’t really think straight, feeling the need to take control over _something_. She normally thinks ahead. She prefers it. It’s how she keeps a level head, thinking of the consequences. It often caused her to overthink and sometimes had the opposite effect of giving her control. 

Regardless. 

When she decided a kegger would be a good idea, not nearly enough of her logic took over. In fact, it almost stepped aside, curious to see how far she’d get without it. Later, she’d learn not to make the same mistake twice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crazy over Kiara's talk with Pope. At first, I wanted to try to play it out for a minute since that's supposedly what they're going to do for S2 but I just couldn't even pretend to make sense of it :/
> 
> Let me know your thoughts :) Next chapter, we're getting another POV!


	3. Something Called Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get away from what exactly, Kie? The fact that every Kook on the island thinks that John B. killed Peterkin? And you wanna- what- go party with ‘em? I’m confused-” 
> 
> Or JJ reflects on his relationship with John B. and Pope and Kiara drag JJ down with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look inside JJ's head is always complicated, right?
> 
> Also, a bit of abuse is mentioned in this chapter, nothing too serious as I try to avoid it if possible.

Kiara left and JJ felt lost. 

Logic told him that she wasn’t going to stay at the Chateau just because he wanted her to, that she clearly had other obligations than keeping him company. He heard the way she yelled at her mother, nearly heard the woman over the phone, even from his spot on the small couch in the house. He wondered if it had always been like that between them, if they had ever agreed on something. Kiara always spoke so bitterly about her mother and to be honest, JJ, while he tried not to judge the woman too harshly, could see why. 

He knew he could manage by himself. He did it often enough, had enough practice. He didn’t mind. But it was hard to see it like that when he stood in the middle of his dead best friend's house. His brother's house. 

After Kiara left, he sat on the porch for what felt like half an hour before heading inside, searching for something else to drink. He settles for more water, refilling the bottle in his hand, almost smiling at the memory of Kiaras face when he had once thrown away his bottle after only one use. John B. and Pope never let him forget it either. 

He tiredly pulls himself up on the counter letting his eyes glide around the mess of a house. John B. had mentioned something about “throwing some shit in the back and burning it” but JJ couldn’t really tell. After the ‘square groupers’ had trashed the place, cleaning wasn’t really high on their priority list so now everything sat turned over or broken, spilled and shattered. He thought it looked bad before.

John B. had never been the cleanest, most organized roommate. 

Setting his water down, he lowers himself to the floor, reaching for the small trash bin that never actually held any trash and gradually starts gathering the garbage, roughly throwing it in the bin. 

He could feel his head start to spin, his thoughts spiraling, so he cleaned. It wasn’t really a conscious decision but he felt it slightly distract his brain. He never really favored cleaning; his room was what some people would consider ‘unkept’, so it was a slow half-assed effort, but an effort nonetheless. By the time he found the floor, a couple of hours had passed and he was grateful. 

He finally devotes his full focus to the thought that has been poking the back of his mind for a few days, the amount of time since he’s been home. As much as JJ considered the Chateau his home, he knew better. The Chateau had had the people he considered home, but people changed and moved, and weren't nearly reliable enough in that sense. He was hesitant with where he felt the safest but the old fish shack always came to mind.

Ever since the night when JJ took a chance and showed up at the Routledges door after a particularly aggressive night at his house, only having known John B. for a few months. He had been met with Big John’s irritated eyes, which immediately turned worried when he recognized it was JJ, and then even more so when he got a closer look at his face. It’s how it always went. JJ felt shame that night, the kind that left his heart beating out of his chest, brought heat to his already hot face and filled him with nauseating regret at putting himself in such a position. He didn’t have to do it, didn’t have to spend half of the trip over just running and trying to stop his seemingly uncontrollable crying. He was usually better at not letting it get that bad, but that night it was different in ways he spent years trying to forget. 

He had fought back that night, at least with his words and not his fists, but he might as well have for what it caused him. 

Then John B. was there, asking a million questions before Big John had yelled at him to stop. He was timid after that, but all the more concerned. JJ doesn’t remember what answers he gave but he knows they weren’t great. He had somehow hoped Big John wouldn’t need answers right away, really hoped they’d just agree to an unspoken understanding of what he needed, even if he didn’t know it himself. 

Luckily Big John followed JJ’s line of thinking and didn’t need an explanation. JJ had assumed it was because he was an adult, as John B. didn’t quite catch on to the memo. Right after Big John had gone to bed, leaving the two boys in the living room, John B. just gave him a look. 

But it wasn’t one of pity, at least not at first. The look read more like he wanted to understand. And JJ liked the change in reaction. So much so that he gave him the best answer he could possibly manage, probably something along the lines of _he gets angry sometimes_ or _I messed up_ followed by _it’s not a big deal_ and _he doesn’t mean to_. When JJ thinks about it, really thinks, he can’t remember what form of the truth he had given John B. that night, as he’s had to come up with so many versions of his answer over the years. He hopes and even has confidence in it being pretty close to an honest answer, rather than to one of the lies he’s grown so close to spreading through his life. Because it was John B. and even years later, after everything that’s happened, he can’t get that look out of his head. It was the look he thought of whenever he started backtracking his steps towards the Routledges door, whenever the impulse to run back home started outweighing his want for ease and what he would soon think of as safety. It was the look that had implemented the thought that maybe it was okay to take a break from his dad, although that particular thought hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it should’ve, he would soon learn. 

After that and some ice packs, John B. admitted to having “something called insomnia, I think,” just so he could further convince JJ that coming over, “even in the middle of the night”, was fine, and that he “shouldn’t even worry about it, seriously, dude.”

JJ would only sneak out of his house when his dad hadn’t passed out. Sometimes he ended up falling asleep and JJ would quietly throw a few things in his backpack, slipping outside to walk the trip he had grown to know so well. He would try to clean up as much as possible before heading out so Big John nor John B. would get the chance to see how angry his dad could get. 

After Big John had disappeared, John B. offered his dad’s room to JJ, saying his dad was going to be gone for a while anyways so it only made sense. JJ wonders if he still would’ve offered the room if he hadn’t shown up to school with his hand in a cast that week. JJ was careful to keep his story the same for every teacher that had asked, and even used the same lie on John B., who JJ knew saw right through it immediately. He didn’t force him to admit what happened though, he hardly ever did. JJ was thankful. Luke had, for once, actually cared what JJ blamed his injury on, telling him to come up with a good story. And JJ did, because it not only scared him to see the look in his dad's eyes, but also of what could happen to them if someone found out. JJ was just a kid then, but he also knew they didn’t have any other family, no one who would take him in if word got out. That scenario scared him almost more than his fathers fist. 

And that’s why, even if the Chateau was his home in all the ways that mattered, he couldn’t write off his real home just yet. He’s thought it through hundreds of times and it always came back to the same relentless conclusion. On top of his probation, as much as he despised it, his dad was his only blood relative in the Outer Banks. 

He glances around the floor, checking for any more broken glass shards to sweep up. He didn’t know what was going to happen to the old fish shack, where all of John B.’s things would go. He glimpses down the hall, slowly making his way past the kitchen, rubbing his neck nervously. He stops outside his bedroom door and looks inside. It didn’t look much better than the living room, blankets and books and clothes littering the floor. 

_When will you get it in your thick skull? If you keep goin’ down this road, you’re gonna end up just like your dad!_

_I can’t give up JJ!_

Maybe bringing up John B.’s dad was too far but it’s not like John B. never did the same. He could hear their argument in his head, see the way John B. would stubbornly try to push past anything that stood in his way, even if it meant JJ himself. John B. had always been stubborn, JJ learned that quickly after he had first met him. He sometimes tried to justify it by comparing himself to JJ, except JJ wasn’t predominantly stubborn, he was just recklessly impulsive. He tried telling JJ that, “no offense, man, but you have it worse.” JJ would just roll his eyes and shake his head, giving his friend a look. There might’ve been some humor behind it but it wasn’t really funny considering the amount of fights the two boys had gotten into because of their hotheadedness. Granted, JJ’s occasionally obnoxious tendencies had landed him in trouble more times than he could say, but that never negated the fact that John B.’s choices were sometimes downright perverse. None of the Pogues let him forget it either, especially Kiara, who would force him to acknowledge how stupidly adamant he was some days, while also knowing he couldn’t always help it. A small part of JJ always wondered if John B. was right. If inherently not being able to control himself was worse than being so dangerously stubborn. 

Both were faults, he supposed, but as he stood in John B.’s empty house, looking into his empty bedroom, a bedroom that would never be occupied by him again, he made up his mind. 

He looks away, as if seeing the room would open a door he didn’t want to even touch.The one that told him he had been the one to talk John B. into the gold hunt. _But you and me, man, we got nothin’ to lose! We really don’t, all right?_ For once, John B,’s persistence hadn’t gotten the best of him and he had tried to shut it all down. _That is what’s gonna save you, man. You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?_

When it all came down to it, JJ was the one to give him the keys to the Phantom. 

In the back of his mind, he knew Kiara would have the right thing to say, putting him at ease in a way he didn’t know he could be when he started thinking like this. She was the most rational person he knew, some days it was astounding how in-control she seemed. It was how he was thinking after Shoupe had given them the news, after Heyward had insisted on driving both him and Pope to their house. It’s what forced him into the fight with Pope only minutes after they had pulled into the driveway, when Pope made an innocent little comment on how there was really no way of knowing whether or not Sarah and John B. had gone down in the storm, that the cops obviously couldn’t know for sure. He knew Pope hadn’t meant anything by it, but it was too late. His temper got the best of him, as it often did. He was reeling from the night's events and Pope wasn’t much better. Heyward didn’t appreciate the screaming match and almost joined in a few times. After that, JJ felt suffocated, he felt cornered, like how he felt after fighting at home. Like he wasn’t safe or welcome. 

So he left, walked to the Chateau. And the next thing he knew, Kiara was there, holding him helping him feel without even trying. She seemed to have that effect on him. It was a strange adjustment, feeling so open around someone. Vulnerability was terrifying. He needed it though, more than he could tell her. He just hoped she knew. 

It’s something that’s been in the back of his head since the hot tub, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. Kiara’s company. The safety it brought was foreign yet he found himself wanting more. He felt so strung out without it. He had almost always been comfortable around her, having shared an innumerable amount of days and nights with the girl. Thinking of that night brought waves of unpleasant memories, ones that made his stomach drop at the mere thought. But it also changed some things and he wasn’t sure if he could name exactly what it was yet. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head while he decides to head to the bathroom and wash off the remnants from the last twenty-four hours. The hot water is at least a little relieving. He can’t remember when exactly his adrenaline took over, only that it seemed to last for hours, not really running out. Last night on the couch, a foggy feeling fell over him and he assumed that’s what that was. 

He slips into one of John B.’s long sleeve shirts and a pair of shorts, vaguely wondering if it’s still considered borrowing, and reaches for the keys to his bike. He didn’t know how much longer they had with the Chateau before it was no longer in the Routledges name, but he knew he didn’t want to be there when the time came.  
\--  
Bits and pieces of their last fight seemed to stain the heavy booze ridden air. It would fade over time, JJ knew better, logically at least, than to get his expectations up. All of their fights left stains here and there and they stood as reminders that there was no such thing as change in the Maybank household. No matter how many nights his father would apologize or build JJ up to make him feel worth the time of day, it was always followed by the man’s body slumping down on the couch or tearing him down with his words and his fists. Sometimes they would leave eachother alone, each of them staying in a separate room leaving only the hum of the bugs from outside the opened windows. 

It was close to being one of those nights. 

The raging sun had finally dipped in the horizon, leaving a humid feel to the air when JJ heard the back door slam shut. JJ swallowed, staring out of the window by the sink when his father entered the kitchen, his eyebrows raised, his eyes locking with JJ’s. 

“Tell me it’s not true.”

It was calm but the familiar tension made JJ glance at the floor, the sink, anywhere but at his father, who was lowering his head, trying to get his full attention. JJ could tell just by his voice, by the way he walked right up to him that he wasn’t even drunk. 

“You heard me, tell me it’s not true. What they’re sayin’.”

JJ turns to look at him, testing words on his tongue, wondering what the smartest choice of words would be. He falters, momentarily wondering who’s ‘they’. His father looks away for a minute, as if trying to keep his voice down, his temper tamed. 

“You know, word travels fast… you didn’t think I wouldn’t find out, did you?” There’s a hint at genuinity in his question, making JJ hesitantly shake his head. 

“Look, Dad-”

“It’s a yes or no question and you’re gonna give it to me straight!” His hand finds the front of JJ’s shirt, shoving him into the refrigerator. “You took it from Barry, didn’t you?”

JJ stills, willing his mind to catch on to the accusation. His father must not know about the bout, but about the 25k. The thought had failed to cross his mind up until now and he could throw something for not thinking of it sooner. He jerks a nod before trying to explain, his excuses getting completely ignored. 

“Goddammit!” His swing caught JJ’s eye before he turned and started shouting about Barry showing up to their house. JJ leaned into the counter trying to blink the sting away, his voice matching his fathers volume. 

“I can get it back!”

Luke kicks a chair aside, swiping a few dishes from the table. A long time ago, JJ would’ve tried to stop him, hold him back from breaking anything within a two feet vicinity. Now, he just looks the other way, rolling his eyes and heads for the closest thing he could get to quiet. 

“You’re damn right you’ll get it back! You think you’re getting a choice?” He holds up a finger that follows JJ to the hallway. JJ is yelling nonsense trying to get him to stop screaming as he runs his hand through his hair, tugging on it painfully. 

“That goes for the fuckin’ boat too! I don’t give a shit who it killed or didn’t, you feel like stealin’ then know you’re paying me back, you hear?”

At the last syllable, JJ slams his bedroom door shut, letting the sound drown out his fathers words. Hearing him bring up the accident only makes his blood boil more. Instead of kicking and hitting and throwing, impulses that immediately flood his brain, instead he drops to the floor and holds his head between his hands, pulling at his hair, heaving in breaths. His lungs burned at the effort, his rubs not completely healed from their last fight, making him grimace as he forced his forehead into the carpet. His whole body tingles as he pushes himself to the edge of his bed, realizing the side of his face is wet. 

At some point, after he had calmed his breathing and the shouting died down, he must’ve fallen asleep. 

A vibrating in his pocket slowly pulled him into consciousness, a faint buzzing the only sound he could hear as he stared into the mattress for a moment. Lazily reaching for his phone, he blinks the blurriness away, feeling his right eye throb at the movement. 

Squinting at the bright screen he tries to focus on the list of missed calls and texts, both coming from Pope and Kiara. The texts ask where he is, if he’s okay, Popes ask if he can talk. Then his eyes land on a text from Kiara, one that he has to read multiple times to make sure he’s got it right. 

“What the hell…” he mumbles, reading over the words as if they’ll disappear if he doesn’t commit them to memory. 

_Kegger tonight?_ Followed by _Picking you up in 5_

For half a second, he’s back to where he was before. Back to the times where Sarah and John B. weren’t gone, where it was a Friday night and he would get the same texts, where he would leave the house without even responding, heading straight into John B.’s van where they would all drive together, already planning to get wasted around a fire near the water. 

But it wasn’t before. It was very much after. 

He slowly sat up as the small screen gave off a soft glow, the only light in his room. It was a little before midnight and as he stared at the message, there was a calm silence surrounding him. His mind was slow from sleep but it took almost no time to start over thinking, a natural habit, an instinct. And it chose to worry. 

He gave a deep sigh, clicking off the screen and swearing under his breath as he headed to the bathroom. All of the lights were off, leaving only dim shadows by the windows where the moonlight spilled in. He could hear his father snoring as he silently closed the bathroom door, flicking the light switch and quickly turning on the faucet. The right side of his face had dried blood along with a bloodshot eye. A string of swears left his mouth without thinking as he splashed his face, not bothering to dry it as he left for the front door. 

He paced for thirty seconds, running his hand through his hair when he saw their headlights. The blaring music is turned down as Kiara’s car pulls up to him. Pope is in the passenger's seat, rolling down his window as he looks at JJ, who tries but fails to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he sticks his head in the car. 

“Be honest, are you guys on fuckin’ crack?”

He looks between both of their faces, trying to tell if they were serious. Kiara’s face is slightly blotchy in the dim light and he can tell she’s been crying, although she seems to be putting on a facade that he doesn’t quite appreciate at the moment. It wasn’t like her to pretend or try to escape. It was one of the things he admired most about her, the way she didn’t hide what she was feeling, leaving her heart on her sleeve with no shame whatsoever. It grounded him a little. Looking at her now was like looking at a stranger. 

Pope didn’t look much better. He had a dark look in his eyes, one that made JJ desperately try to gauge his friends mood. He was looking at JJ, giving him a look as if he was the one out of line. He moved his head to try to catch the side of JJ’s face. 

“Dude, what the hell-” Pope asked when Kiara momentarily looked behind JJ at his house.

“JJ, what are you doing here?” She looked genuinely concerned. He knew, deep down, both of them meant no harm. But right now, their words made JJ feel like he just woke up to a smokescreen. He ignores them. 

“I’m being serious. Are you guys messing with me? A kegger? What the fuck-” He lets out a humorless laugh. 

“JJ, relax. It’s just to get away for awhile-”

“Get away from what exactly, Kie? The fact that every Kook on the island thinks that John B. killed Peterkin? And you wanna- what- go party with ‘em? I’m confused-” 

“Dude, calm down-

“I am calm! I just don't get where your guys head are at-”

That was partly a lie. JJ had a vague idea on how they were feeling, because they were all feeling relatively the same. He wasn’t stupid. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to just forget for a night too, all of it. The feeling put pure guilt in the pit of his stomach every time it crossed his mind though, and it made him feel like a decent person when he pushed it away. Up until now, as he looked between the two, noticing how lost they looked. 

Recklessness was JJ’s specialty, but the idea of going to a party full of people who had their own ignorant ideas of what happened the day of the storm made JJ sick. And seeing how the most rational people he knew, Kiara of all people, weren’t running the other way but talking as if they needed this, it put him on edge. Nothing about it was right and it scared him. It all seemed like a cry for help in his eyes. 

“Look, it’s just…” Kiara starts, giving a false weak smile, with a tone she’s used countless times before to convince the Pogues of certain things they were unsure of, “it’s like we’re all stuck in our heads, ya know? We just need to let go for a minute.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself and it made JJ speechless. 

They’re all silent for a moment, just the sound of the engine and a harmony of crickets filling the air. 

“Kie, listen, I know how you feel, okay? But this isn’t what you- what we need right now,” He gestures to the three of them before Pope interrupts.

“You said it yourself, man! Kooks versus Pogues, they always win!” Pope bursts out, making JJ glance back at his house before staring at his friend incredulously. 

Pope was never one to throw words back at people and he was certainly never one to want to fight back. He took a lot of shit at the end of the day and didn’t complain. It confused JJ sometimes but that was just Pope. But now, it was like JJ was looking at himself and it was… unsettling. 

“I thought you didn’t believe they went down-” he spat out. 

“I know John B. didn’t kill Peterkin, but the person who’s actually responsible is still just, out, free, like nothing happened! I know you’re sick of it too, man.”

This made JJ jump back as if he had been burned, a million comebacks sitting on his tongue as he turned away from the car, running his hand through his hair. _What is that supposed to mean? What are you honestly planning on doing? Why am I the only one thinking straight?_ It was overwhelming. He couldn’t help but laugh because he rarely felt this stressed he just realized. 

“Jesus Christ.” he muttered as he pinched his nose, knowing they’ve both already made up their minds. And he hates that he can’t seem to stop them, bring them back to themselves. He lets out a sharp breath and finally jerks the car door open. 

“Fuck. Fine.” 

Both Kiara and Pope let out a sigh of relief and the mere sound makes JJ want to jump out of the car. Obligation was heavy on his chest as he glanced at both of them from the back before closing his eyes, slumping back in his seat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of them trying to hold each other afloat while they're simultaneously drowning is really what's happening here. 
> 
> Next chapter features 'and there were only three beds!?' lol


	4. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should probably not say that kinda shit to people. It’s a major turn off.” 
> 
> Or Pope thinks he knows what Rafe deserves and JJ starts feeling guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pope is a good friend, he's just a little lost right now, who isn't?

He had convinced himself he was living through a fever dream. 

It was another life, apparently, one where he didn’t have a solo cup in his hand as he sat on the driftwood. Where not a single ounce of his being wanted to be surrounded by the party, where instead of flirting with anything that breathed, he kept his eyes glued to his two Pogues and only them. One where he wasn’t teasing or laughing or drinking with John B. because he was dead. 

Whenever anyone tried to pull his attention away, at first he would shrug them off politely, which soon just turned into glares and ‘fuck off’s. 

The air was sticky and hot, the sand damp and the music overly obnoxious. Everything was stuffy and JJ tried to make sense of it all as he watched Kiara double over laughing, supporting herself with a body in the crowd. He couldn’t help but assume it was her way of not crying. Her face wasn’t genuine and he hated it. There wasn’t that light in her eyes, or the usual ease in her movements he was so used to seeing. He didn’t feel compelled to reciprocate her carefree energy, but to keep her close, making sure she didn’t simply break. She had cried enough tears over the past two days, he knew, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like _this_. He had never seen such a sight, Kiara concealing her hurt so much. Disguising it, contradicting it. He could barely take his eyes off her. 

His attention found Pope, who had his arm slung around a girl and a drink in his hand. Everything about him was loose as he and the girl broke out in laughter, leaning on each other on their own piece of driftwood. He too, wasn’t all there. He wondered if all of this was helping or hurting them more. JJ clenched his jaw as his stomach dropped for the fortieth time that night. Seeing both of them like this put him completely out of his element. It disturbed him, in a way. It felt like he was in someones else's skin, watching complete strangers, living someone else's life, perhaps. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who kept them in check, if anything, it was the other way around. 

He decided he had to be dreaming. 

Dreaming a nightmare, more like. 

He bites his cheek, hard enough this time to taste blood when someone knocks into his back. He turns, seeing a girl with buzzed blonde hair stifling a laugh behind the cup in her hand. Some other guys are near her, looking around and laughing. When she sees him looking at her, she puts her hands up. 

“Hey, sorry. My bad.” She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond but he ignores it, turning back around to find Kiara in the crowd. She waits for a moment, trying to get a better look at his face by sitting next to him, both of their bodies facing opposite directions. 

“Hey, weren’t you friends with that kid who just died?”

If JJ had been drinking he would’ve choked. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at her with a ‘what the actual fuck’ look, assuming what little filter she had has been supressed from the alcohol. 

“You should probably not say that kinda shit to people. It’s a major turn off.” he half heartedly says with annoyance in his voice. He doesn’t have the energy to tell her off. It looks like it takes her a minute to understand what he said, judging from the delayed laugh. 

“Oh! Yeah, no, you just looked familiar.”

He raised his eyebrows, holding back a ‘duh’. It physically pains him. 

“I think you’re missing my point-” he says flatly when she leans in closer to him. 

“Hey, what happened to your face, dude?”

He pulls back, almost falling off the log, managing a “What does it look like?”

She pauses again, nodding slowly while examining his face. 

“You’re probably from school. Ya know.” 

“Okay.” 

_“Okay_.” she mocks, laughing like she just delivered the joke of all jokes. “Hey, why do you look so pissed?”

JJ took a sharp inhale. 

“I dunno, you tell me.”

“But I’m asking you.”

“I’m aware.”

She blinks, looking down into her cup before gesturing to him, “Holy shit.” She tips her drink back, swallowing, letting a long breath out before clearing her throat. 

“You know, even from barely knowing him, I don’t think that the Routledge dude did it.” She spoke seriously all of a sudden, as if discussion conspiracies with him. He turns to look at her finally. 

“What?”

“It’s fuckin’ stupid, I know, but I don’t think we’re getting the truth, ya know?” She looks around, her eyes landing on a few people closer to them before speaking again. “I would put money on it. There’s no way he killed the Sheriff.” She sits up straighter, shaking her head as if to say ‘it is what it is’. 

He has no retorts in him as she downs the rest of her drink, letting out a small “whoo!” before standing and pointing at him. 

“D’you wanna dance?”

The dismissal dies in his mouth when he glances away from her, the driftwood where Pope was just sitting on, empty. He stiffens, scanning the shore for Kiara, gone. 

He hears it before he sees it. 

As loud as the music was, it didn’t drown out the start of a shouting match, one that included voices that JJ was familiar with. 

“You killed my sister, you dirty fucking Pogue!”

“Just stop, Rafe! The fact that you’re not behind bars right now fucking beyond me-” Kiara’s voice cracks at the volume. 

JJ hurries over to the small clump of bodies further down the beach, trying to spot her. The waves were louder than the music as he got closer to the shore, but the yelling overpowered the waves easily. It was the middle of the night and trying to find familiar faces with only the moon in the cloudy sky was annoyingly difficult. The blonde follows him, dropping her cup and almost tripping over the logs in the process. 

“Oh, look who’s on their moral high ground now!” Rafe nearly screams, sounding more unhinged than ever as he hypes up his small audience, making JJ’s heart race. “I guess when you’re not burning down movie screens or stealing from dealers, you’re spreading lies, is that it?” Rafe has his arms on Kiara’s, holding her tightly as she tries to slip from his grip. 

“I bet you don’t even miss her-” Kiara kicks him between the legs, both of them stumbling apart from each other before he leans in closer, his breath ragged. “Deep down, Carrera, you know he got exactly what he deserved-”

Before he could finish his taunt, JJ roughly breaks past the bodies to see Pope tackle him. Kiara starts yelling his name when everyone in the group starts chanting for them to fight. JJ reaches out for Kiara, meeting her eyes, a nonverbal confirmation of if she was okay. She doesn’t nod or shake her head, only looks down at Rafe and Pope, with fear in her eyes. 

“Pope, stop! Pope!” JJ tries to get his arms around Popes middle before being shoved off. Pope gets in a couple more punches before Rafe flips him off, straddling him and not holding back his own fists. 

“Rafe, lay off!” Kiara cries out, trying to help JJ pull him off of Pope, both of them ending up on their backs as Rafe falls backwards.

“Oh, I get the pleasure of all three Pogues tonight!” Rafe quickly climbs to his feet before kicking as hard as he could into JJ’s side. The breath leaves his lungs instantly as he attempts to find his own footing. Kiara looks over to JJ from where she’s crawled over to Pope, shaking her head. 

“All three of you,” Rafe gestures to the two boys on the ground and to Kiara, who’s kneeling in the sand, “you’ll leave now, if you know what’s good for you.” 

As JJ finally finds the ground, steadying himself yet still swaying, he hears the blonde, who’s standing near some of the people closest to the action, confidently comment “Speak for yourself, fuckin’ Kook.”

He can’t bring himself to talk, his breaths coming out in sharp stabs as he staggers over to where Pope was laying in the sand. He had to put all of his energy and focus into ignoring Rafe, who looked pretty proud of himself as he stumbled around the circle, looking not too far from collapsing himself. JJ gestures for Kiara to help him lift Pope, who was sitting up, wiping blood from his nose half-heartedly. Within five minutes, all he can hear is the sound of their legs brushing through the grass and weeds and their heavy breathing, JJ’s a little more labored the longer he walks. They’re steadily trekking back to the car without a word. 

As soon as the car is in sight, JJ drops his arm from supporting Pope and shoves his shoulder, causing him to jerk out of Kiara’s grip. 

“What the hell was that?” he shouts, although it comes out more strained than he would’ve liked, his voice gravelly from coughing. He is dizzy with emotion and exhaustion, nothing but anger fuelling his movements. He hasn’t known how to react all night, feeling foreign in his own body and barely recognizing the two closest people he had left. Now, with Popes face bloody and surely bruised, his own ribs backtracking their way to recovery and Kiara looking utterly devastated, something inside him snaps. What little control he had over the situation was gone in an instant, with nothing but injuries and damaged morale to show for it. 

Pope turns to match JJ’s stance, despite both of their energy being completely depleted. 

“Oh, you mean the whole Rafe getting what he deserves?” he gestures to the direction they just came from. 

JJ’s heart was going to beat out of his chest from his blood pressure, he was sure of it. 

“Fuck, Pope! Do you- do you even hear yourself, man?! Have you been listening to anything you’ve said all night?”

Pope has a defiant look on his face, making him look so painfully unfamiliar, JJ almost has to look away. Instead, he runs both hands through his hair roughly, as if to brace himself as he grabs Pope's shoulders.

“That,” -he quickly throws an arm behind him- “didn’t help anything! Not a single fucking thing! And Rafe, getting what he deserves? Man, he deserves so much more than what any of us could give him! Don’t you get that?” he speaks urgently, trying to convince both Pope and himself of his words.“It’s out of our hands now, dude!” This was what Pope acting out looked like apparently, what was destined to happen when the denial ran out. 

He’s breathing so hard he didn’t notice the gasping sobs coming from behind Pope until he stopped yelling. He drops his hands from Pope's shoulders and swallows the lump in his throat. He could faintly make out Kiara, who has her knees pulled up to her chest, leaning against the back tire of her car as she struggles for composure, her sobs getting cut off from her breath catching every few seconds. JJ lets out a shaky breath himself, feeling unsteady at the sight. He squints, trying to check her for injuries in the faint light, gladly finding no visible marks. Pope stands still, like a deer caught in headlights, looking down at her nervously. 

“Kie.” JJ calls out worriedly, as he slowly makes his way to her. She doesn’t acknowledge him, seemingly unaware of the two as she runs her shaking hands through her hair, trying to steady her breathing and failing. 

“Kie, look at me.” JJ drops to one knee, wanting to reach out but not knowing how without scaring her. 

“Kiara.”

It’s not as sudden as it is timid, her dark eyes meeting his as her breath hitches. She’s plainly panicking, the sound proving to be the death of him. “Kie, you’re okay, all right? Listen to me,” he inched his way towards her, holding out an arm, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“I- I can’t-” she sobs, shaking her head, gulping for air. 

Tonight definitely hurt them more than helped them, he thinks, glancing at the ground anxiously. He closed the last bit of space between them, grabbing her shaking hand and holding it in his. 

“You’re okay, Kie.”

“I’m not, JJ.” she says softly, breathing quickly before looking up at the black sky. “None of us are.” She blinks into the stars for what feels like a couple of minutes before she lets out another cry and swallows. 

“I just didn’t want to feel it anymore. Just for a while.” 

JJ nods before remembering they couldn’t really see each other. “Yeah. I gotcha.” 

As she hesitantly leans into his shoulder and quite literally crumbles, a sudden chill went through him when he realized he finally felt empty. He couldn’t bring himself to cry, couldn’t feel angry, just empty. Hollow. Like he had used up everything he could give until there was nothing. He hoped the feeling would pass as he held his arms around her shaking shoulders, a small part hating the fact that they ended up like this so often, in such a short span of time, for all the wrong reasons. 

Not because he had playfully spooked her and she fell into his arms laughing, not because it had been a few days since they had seen each other and they were all too affectionate for their own good, and not because he had worried her so much with sometimes staying under the water too long, she couldn’t help but hug him after swatting him for the worry. 

The reason now was because their best friend was gone and they were simply lost.   
\--  
The sky was still black by the time they were walking up to the porch of the Chateau. It was like no matter how hard he tried, JJ couldn’t seem to stay away. It wasn’t really comfortable anymore, the familiarity of it all. The noise from the swing of the screen door, or the scent that seemed to seep into anything that sat in the house for more than a day. They had all stayed the night under this specific roof more times than they could say, feeling welcome without having to be told. But now, it felt off. JJ couldn’t shake the feeling as he bent down to one of the kitchen drawers to grab a plastic bag to fill with ice. 

Pope was sprawled in a slouched position on the couch, looking around the room tiredly. As JJ dropped the small bag of ice on his friend's stomach, handing him one of the two beers in his hand as well, he wondered if he felt it too. 

“Thanks.” Pope mutters, holding the bag up to his face while he places the bottle in between his legs, twisting it open with his free hand. JJ dropping on the cushion beside Pope, lets the word float around before he gives in. 

“For the alcohol or the ice, because I bet both feel pretty good right about now-”

“JJ.” Pope lazily looks over to him, saying it in a tone he’s used so many times before. It was exasperation along with a mutual understanding of ‘you know what I mean, dumbass.’ JJ nods, shrugging like he didn’t need to talk about it right now, twisting the cap from his bottle and tossing it on the coffee table. He kicks his feet up, resting them on said table and taking a long swig. 

“It was so stupid.” Pope says, as if it’s an afterthought. 

“Huh?”

“The whole thing. Thing is, I knew it, too. It’s just when I saw Kiara… I mean, I’ve never seen her like that before.” 

JJ looks over at him, searching his face for elaboration when he pauses.

“She doesn’t go looking for trouble, you know, but it’s like she wanted it. And then I thought of the cops and everything else just sorta… clicked into place.” 

“Yeah, well,” JJ took another drink, taking his time, “it’s not like you walked away with nothing to show for it.” He held up his bottle, gesturing to Pope's face. Pope nodded, a little humor in his eyes. 

“Where is she, anyways?” JJ looked around, as if Kiara was there without his knowledge. 

“Shower.” 

“Ah.” 

“...yup.” 

JJ hardly ever had to outright apologize for things with John B. and Pope. They all just had these unspoken moments where after something happened, things were usually mended by the end of the night. Right now, sitting next to Pope, he didn’t feel any underlying tension or as if something needed to be addressed. It was easy, not needing to use words, but more gestures. JJ was sure the fight from the other night was purely fueled by raging emotions, along with the fact he didn’t want to talk about that particular stretch of hours anyways, so that was that. And with tonight, Pope admitted to knowing it was a fuck up on his end. Knowing he could count on Pope to always come out of the other side with a level head took a little bit of the weight he had accumulated from just today off his chest. 

When his eyes land on the small trash bin sitting by the table, his thoughts drift to this morning. He was glad to not have any direct obligations for the day, but he had thought about the cops more than once. When they were going to pull them in to the station for questioning. He dreaded even thinking about it, somehow hoping there was a way out of it, but knowing better. He wondered what he would say, if he would be able to lie to them and say he didn’t know where John B. and Sarah were going, that he wasn’t the one who had practically given them the boat. His nerves seem to further fry at the thought. 

“Pope.”

His friend seemed to be slipping into sleep, but opened his eyes a little wider at JJ’s voice, speaking a little sarcastically.

“Yes, JJ?”

He knew Pope would give it to him straight, but he also didn’t know if he wanted the truth. He pauses, the sound of the shower quiet in the background. _Fuck it._

“Do you blame yourself?”

Pope seems to take a minute, trying to understand the words before he turns his head, dropping the ice bag to give JJ his full attention.

“JJ…”

“Hmm?”

“You can’t… think like that, man-”

“I mean we didn’t stop them.”

Pope stares at him while JJ avoids eye contact, just staring ahead in the kitchen. 

“We couldn’t’ve stopped them if we wanted to,” Pope argues, “You know how he is. And besides, there’s really not any evidence-” JJ rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“Pope-”

“No, listen. What’s done is done, whether we like it or not, no matter how unfair it is. Like you said, it’s out of our hands now, anyways.” 

JJ wanted to argue, a part of him wanting to justify why he felt so numb after the fight with Rafe, how he froze up in Kiara’s arms. In the moment, he had felt hurt at the sight of Kiara, wanting to make her feel less alone, like she wasn’t completely spiraling out of control, so he tried his best with what he had. Even though it didn’t even come close to what he felt was appropriate under the circumstances that they had found themselves in within the last couple of days. A bigger part of him was bracing for guilt, which seemed to be consuming him at the moment. And he knew it was going to be impossible to explain, even thinking about it disoriented him. 

So he nodded, glancing over to Pope to let him know he’s dropping it. Pope only looks half convinced, but doesn’t push it any further. 

By the time JJ finishes his beer, Pope is long gone, fast asleep, with the bag of ice sitting on his shoulder from where it fell from his limp hand. JJ grabs the bottle from his other hand, setting it down on the coffee table next to his as he stands. 

They never did it before, never felt a reason to, but as he passes Popes unconscious form, he walks up to the door and locks it, before peaking around the dark yard. He couldn’t make out much, the moon no longer giving off light through the heavy clouds. 

Assuming Kiara was sleeping in Big John’s room, which was also partly JJ’s, that left JJ with John B.’s. Kiara usually slept in the room John B. had offered to JJ when the couch was taken, and considering the amount of times she had slept over, they all had the routine down pretty well. 

He finds a granola bar in one of the cupboards, realizing he hadn’t eaten much that day. After practically inhaling it, he chases it down with water and turns off the light to the living room and kitchen before walking to the bathroom to take his second shower of the day. Once again, the hot water allowed his body to finally relax, all the tension that had built up slowly winding down. He’s about to disappear into his friends room when he notices the door across the hall is cracked, a stream of light illuminating the dark hallway. He pokes his head in the room, only seeing Kiara’s wet hair on the pillow before reaching for the doorknob and closing the door. It lets out a low creak, making her jump and turn, her eyes landing on JJ, who holds up his free hand. 

“Sorry, sorry, just thought you might want this closed-”

“It’s fine,” she says, shaking her head before looking down at the bed. He too, looks down, rubbing the back of his neck while holding the door open still. 

“You good?”

She nods, glancing behind him, fidgeting with her necklaces. “Yeah.” 

JJ hesitates, knowing full well it’s a lie, but knowing how much she hated being nudged to share, so he nodded, turning and pulling the door with him. 

“You’re sleeping in John B.’s room?” she asks, her voice a little louder as she looks at him with an unreadable expression. 

“Uh, yeah, Pope’s got the couch.”

“Well, sleep in here then.” She says it so naturally, so much like Kiara, it makes him almost want to tease her, to slip into their normal way and not feel like they’re walking on glass. He clears his throat. 

“It’s fine, Kie, don’t-” 

“I’m not worrying about you, just get in the bed.” 

He risks it. 

“Eager much?”

She gives a tired exhale, a small smile on her face, it probably would’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so late. Or early. Whatever time it was. 

He ignores the fact that this would be their second time technically sleeping together as he slowly closes the door and starts flipping over the covers. 

“Light on or off?” 

“Off.”

Flicking the lightswitch, he feels his way towards the bed, climbing in under the comforter, then making a face. 

“Jesus, Kie. Here,” He flips the heavy blanket over to her, purposefully throwing it over her head, “it’s literally ninety degrees in here, where’s just the sheet?” 

He hears her make a noise with her mouth, the sound of blankets whipping around as she’s probably unburying her face from the covers. He tries to suppress a laugh.

“It’s under you, like where all sheets are.”

“You mean like, under both of us? Seriously?” She lets out a breathy giggle, as he flips around, tugging on the thin sheet on the mattress a little more harder than he needed to. 

“It is not ninety in here, either, JJ, temperatures drop at night.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” 

She makes a point of laying completely still, not moving even when he reaches his hand near the sheet underneath her. 

“I don’t really feel like moving.” she challenges, knowing he’ll play right along.

“So what,” he mumbles, standing and yanking the sheet from the bottom of the bed “you’re gonna let me freeze? You know... temperatures drop at night.” 

This time it sounds like she stifles her laugh in her pillow, a sound that makes JJ stop tugging and give an amused “goddamn” as he hears her get up. 

“It’s tucked into the mattress, dumbass.” She lifts her side of the mattress, pulling out the sheet as JJ throws his arms out on the bed sloppily, smacking them around tiredly. 

“I can’t see shit, Kie.” 

“Oh my God, here.” Her hand reaches his as her other hand places the corner of the sheet in his grasp. 

Both of them situate themselves back in the bed, moving the blankets and sheets for half a minute until they’re both comfortable. 

“Why was that so tiring?”

“‘Cause you just love being extra. Do you feel better now?” she asks in a quiet voice, only half serious.

“I dunno, I’m kinda getting cold-” She cuts him off with a swat to his arm as he lets out a guilty snicker. They both settle into a comfortable silence, one where his thoughts are attempting to fill. He blinks at the ceiling, even though it’s just pitch blackness. It felt so natural he could almost think everything was back to normal. He wondered if she felt the same way. They were almost opposites at the moment. She had gone to the party to stop feeling so much and JJ… He tries to tell himself it was to watch after Pope and Kiara, not because he was desperate to feel more. Not because it’s like he could physically feel the guilt start to pick at his perceptions. For now, he needed sleep. 

He heard her breathing even out and it relaxed him. 

“G’night, JJ.” 

“Night, Kie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ and Kiara deserve to smile more :)


	5. What Goes Up Must Come Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “By the way, I’m not ignoring how you feel or anything, just so you know.”
> 
> Or Kiara receives some MUCH DESERVED validation and Topper feels confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not me hating on Sarah or redeeming Topper, it is just through the lens that is Kiara Carrera :)

The rain fell and the sound was surprisingly gentle. It was a mix between a mist and soft raindrops, creating a monotone atmosphere as she stared at The Phantom. The boat was being lulled to the rhythm of the waves, drifting closer to the shore before getting pulled away, the dark water climbing up the sides, splashing at the rails.It seemed too small, smaller than she remembers, to be getting thrown around in the water, judging by the way it was succumbing to the tides. The sky was black, felt familiar, and she wanted to approach the boat, an impulse she couldn’t shake for the life of her. But she couldn’t really move, feeling stuck in the spot as she searched for bodies. The rain continued to fall, it being the only sound as what appeared to be John B.’s backpack slowly floated towards her legs. She bends down to pick it up when the roll of thunder pulls her from the act. 

Kiara startles awake to rain pattering the window next to the bed. Opening her eyes, she sees the room is dim, a gloom filling the air that smelled of soil and clean laundry. A wave of disappointment floods through her when she wakes, immediately wanting to fall back asleep, even for a minute longer. She can still see a faint image of The Phantom, tilting and swaying in the water innocently staring back at her. Only a few dreams that she could remember have made her want to fall back asleep. Somehow, despite the chill the dream sent through her, she wonders what would’ve happened next. 

She lays for a minute, trying to recollect her thoughts when she feels the side of the bed empty. Slowly sitting up, she confirms her suspicion. JJ must’ve only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, judging by the time on the clock and the time they fell asleep last night. The memory makes her feel… safe. 

Last night's events came to her in waves. She didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed, rarely ever did after displaying her oftentimes rather emotional sentiments. Ever since she was young, she was taught that it was okay to not hide her feelings, and was encouraged against it, even. It felt natural to not hold back. Only for a while did she feel genuine shame last night for having brought Pope and JJ with her to the kegger. Even after she knew she was clearly, stubbornly, self destructing and was intentionally ignoring the hindsight of how much of a mistake it was. After it had dawned on her how irrational it was, there was no going back and she panicked. Despite already having cried so much, she could no longer control the downward spiral, so she gave in. 

And just like that, JJ had proven to be an anchor, of sorts. It was a role that he played well, she realized. A role they were both playing in each other’s lives, whether they knew it or not, more often now than ever and she was okay with it. More than okay, she supposed. 

Kiara admittedly hoped she played it well for him too. 

She hadn’t had an anxiety attack in a long time, although there had been a couple of close calls as of recently. The day JJ got arrested comes to mind. That was a long, exhausting, disgusting day. She had never seen Pope fight with his dad so aggressively; he was pissed JJ took his fall and Heyward just wanted to know what exactly had started all of it. Kiara couldn’t find it in herself to stay, knowing that no matter what she said to Pope, it wouldn’t make him feel better. 

So she had gone home. 

Then there was Midsummers. Her and her mom were so close to biting each other’s heads off through every minute of the preparation and it had put her on edge. She felt objectified, felt exactly how she had felt throughout her entire year at the Kook academy, when she stood in front of the mirror and stared at herself. It had brought up the feelings of insecurity and the overbearing need to fit in, to constantly change and re-mold herself nearly every waking moment. The feelings of being utterly lost as she stood around a circle of Kooks one night on the beach, as her eyes were glued to her Pogues. 

Right when she felt as if she were suffocating while making harmless small talk and serving false smiles, she saw JJ being walked out and it had pushed her over the edge. 

She couldn’t help but announce how ‘Kookish’ it was for them to be throwing him out. Her parents had despised her behavior, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care. Then JJ was giving her an out via a “mandatory power hour at Rixon’s” and she ran. Smiling, laughing, feeling giddy as ever as she held her dress and ran straight into his arms, their bodies swinging in a twirl. As she got closer to him, though, she saw his face and the giddiness instantly left her. John B. and Pope had gotten to them before she could mention it, so she had made a mental note to get to him later. 

As John B. enthusiastically explained his breakthrough regarding the gold, she truly let herself feel relieved because it meant progress and that’s exactly what they needed. All of their moves were ending in dead ends so the change nearly gave her butterflies. That was, until John B. mentioned Sarah and all relief and butterflies were gone at just the sound of her name. After all, what goes up was bound to come down. The sudden turn of topic combined with the boys apparent lack of understanding made it impossible to articulate exactly what she was feeling, about Sarah, about the outcome for the gold hunt. She could tell by just their faces that she was going to have to put up a needless fight to justify herself. The whole discussion made her feel painfully invalidated and she rarely felt as insignificant around the boys as she did that night. 

Out of everyone, JJ seemed to pick up on it. 

After John B. had blatantly lied to her face in the van, she could no longer find her voice, her blood running too hot. He left and she felt a lump in her throat, deciding it was best not to give the boys another reason for thinking it wasn’t as big of a deal as it actually was, so she left too. Quickly pushing her way towards the sliding door and slamming it shut, ignoring Pope’s “where are you going?”, almost tripping on her heels in the process. 

_It makes her spit out a curse as she swallows hard, blinking to keep the angry tears from falling as she yanks the shoes from her aching feet. John B. never won any trophies for being observant. She learned from the start of their relationship that he could be easily blinded sometimes, not aware of the things that were obvious and making decisions without seeing the whole picture. So she was extra patient with him, knowing that she needed to make her voice heard and actively communicate with him if she was uncomfortable about something. Pope and JJ had even made offhand jokes about it, which relieved her in a sense to know she wasn’t the only one who saw it._

_But tonight… it was a whole other problem. Tonight, she had spoken up, tried to instill logic in the situation, hoping it wouldn’t appear as petty jealousy because it was so far from it. Their faces and comments made it clear that she had fallen short and it only dug the knife in deeper._

_“Lightning usually comes before rain.” She hears JJ call out from behind her, making her turn and swallow the ache in her throat._

_“What?” Kiara asks, half annoyed, not really in the mood for cryptic comments. JJ catches up to where she stood under a tree, hands in his pockets, tilting his head down to her dress._

_“Whatever the hell your dress is made of, it looks way too expensive to get wet.”_

_She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as he steps in her line of sight. He raises his eyebrows in an ‘I’m listening’ way, his hands still in his pockets, as if not wanting to force anything. A painful laugh escapes her without warning._

_“He can be so patronizing sometimes. It’s not a good look on him.” She says it bitterly and without thinking, not knowing if she would be able to handle someone else brushing away her concerns. JJ looks away, slowly nodding looking distracted._

_“More like confused.”_

_Of course he’s taking John B.’s side, a dark part of herself thinks._

_“He’s not confused! He thinks he can just jump headfirst all the time! It’s gonna end up hurting him- ”_

_“Kie- “_

_She was shaking now, a steadiness she didn’t know the origin of behind her words._

_“No! He doesn’t know her, alright? I do! And I don’t trust her, but that doesn’t matter now, because why?” She drops her shoes in the dirt, throwing her hands in her hair, trying to calm herself. JJ didn’t deserve to be in the line of fire, but he hadn’t exactly helped back at the cove either._

_“I just don’t get it! He can hold all of the grudges he wants, so why is it, when this one time I see a red flag he just chooses to ignore it? Ignore me?”_

_“He’s not ignoring you, Kie- “_

_“Then why do I feel so degraded all of a sudden? It’s not okay- “ She says it like it doesn’t even begin to describe it, because it doesn’t. She stops to take a few deep breaths, watching the lightning flash across the inky sky. JJ is quiet for a minute, looking down at the ground. He looks up at her when she gives another forced laugh._

_“It just hurts.”_

_“Kie…” He places his hands on her arms, forcing her to look at him._

_“JB would never want to hurt you. None of us would, alright? He’s just… being a guy right now, not thinking with his head, you know the spiel.” He gives a humored scoff when her face loses a bit of hardness, looking at him with forgiveness._

_“By the way, I’m not ignoring how you feel or anything, just so you know.”_

_He of all people would know the most of her relationship and lack thereof with Sarah Cameron, because even though they didn’t talk everyday, he still checked in with her during her Kook year. It was brutal, the distance they put between each other, foregin and painful at times, she could feel his trust slip with every day, but they still cared for each other in an unspoken protective way. She would ask about home and he would ask about school. They never went into depth or detail, but it was reassuring enough. Keeping vague tabs was one of the things that unconsciously kept her going and she wondered if the same was ever true for him._

_“He can be stupid, sometimes, but he means well, ya know? He’ll come around.” He mirrors her nod as she crosses her arms, resting her hands on his and lightly squeezing, almost hugging herself. She believed part of it, but she also knew John B.and how stubborn he could be. She took a deep breath, trying not to have every event of the day force her to relive her Kook memories. JJ drops his arms but stays close._

_“It’ll figure itself out, Kie, don’t worry about it.”_

_She searches his face to see if he believed his words, not really sure if it was worry or hurt on his features. She looks away, leaning down to pick up her heels, pointing at the left side of her face._

_“You get that from your dad?”_

_“Uh…”_

_He turns his body, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking down. At first she thinks he’s going to pretend he didn’t hear her. Then he gives something between a laugh and a cough._

_“Yeah.”_

_They both look at each other, both of them biting their lips and unable to speak. A long time ago, he stopped telling her to stop worrying, stopped with the “it’s fine” and the distractions, now he was just honest and quiet. She frowns, shaking her head as she looks down at the ground, as if searching for a lost piece of jewelry. If she could bottle up helplessness, she would._

_“We should probably get back to the van,” he awkwardly mutters, stepping closer to her, trying to find her eyes. She nods, glancing at him before walking towards the van._

_“You know, before you ruin your drop dead, gorgeous, expensive-ass dress.“_

_A laugh escapes her throat as she nudges his side just as more lightning silently cracks the sky._

She had really only cried out of frustration that night, after they found John B. lying on the ground in the dirt, completely unconscious. It scared her to no end, seeing her friend in such a state, but she would be lying if she said it couldn’t have been avoided. It was a bitter thought but a reoccurring one nonetheless. After all, that night’s events had kick started everything else, it seemed. 

Thinking of Sarah now made her panickingly shove the thought away. As childish as it was, she wasn’t sure if she could unload her feelings towards it just yet. It was quite a bit to unpack. Sarah had hurt her to the point where forgiveness was simply out of the picture then she was gone and out of her life, then came back, if only for a few days and then gone again. It was all so confusing, all of the emotional whiplash. 

She glances over at the empty side of the bed again, pushing her worry down. JJ was an early riser, always has been. He’s admitted that sleeping wasn’t really “his thing” and for as long as she could remember, he was usually the first one up out of all of them, not really wide awake perse but not being able to sleep after a certain amount of hours either. 

She throws on a sweater that she must’ve left on the floor at some point, the material feeling stiff but otherwise smelling clean, pushing her damp, slightly tangled hair back and heads for the kitchen 

Pope was lying on the pullout, looking a little out of it as he noticed her walk in, just as another rumble of thunder breaks the silence. He lazily holds up a hand.

“What’s up?”

“Hey.” she replies in a tired voice, leaning in the fridge to check and see if there was anything worth consuming at the ungodly hour. Just as she expected, it was relatively bare. 

“How’s your face?”

He gives a groggy over dramatic sigh, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“Surprisingly, it’s felt better, not gonna lie.”

She lets out a quick exhale, smiling a little as she finds her way to the couch. 

“I didn’t really wanna have to explain it to my parents,” he adds as an afterthought, peering over to her, “at least not last night. Guess that’ll be fun to go over when they take me to the station.” She looks over to him raising her eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?”

“JJ said something about his dad texting him, something about the cops showing up at his house earlier, asking for him.”

“Seriously?” She leans back in the cushions, defeat filling her voice. Pope reciprocates the response. “Damn. Have your parents said anything…”

“I don’t know.” he says half-heartedly, not looking eager to change the fact. She reaches for her phone left on the coffee table, seeing a text from her dad, asking if she was going to work today. She doesn’t bother changing her clothes as she grabs a few items around the house before offering Pope a ride.   
\--  
She was working an abbreviated shift due to having to go over to the station for questioning and it made her sick. Nerves were flipping her stomach inside out as she wiped down one of the tables, collecting a few cups along the way. It was a slow hour, the busiest time usually taking place later in the day so there were only a handful of customers, scattered around. 

Rolling her eyes at a pile of fries on the floor that had obviously been purposely spilled, she reaches for the broom when she hears the jingle of the door opening. 

Topper glances around as he walks in, his eyes landing on her and she sighs. _Fuck this_. She quickly starts walking towards the kitchen, pushing a strand of hair out of her face when he calls out to her. 

“Hey, Kiara!”

“Yeah, not happening.” she mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear. He has a genuinely serious expression on his face, a rare sight, it almost makes her take a double take. 

“Kiara, wait! Please.” 

She stops, staring into the kitchen for a moment before turning towards the counter where he now stood behind, looking at her. 

“Look, I don’t wanna start anything- “

“Then what do you want?” She sets the broom against the wall and crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows tiredly. He looks around as if he hadn’t expected to get this far, looking around the restaurant, slowly pulling out a stool and stuttering. 

“I- I just wanted to talk. You know, just, like, it’s not a big deal but- “

“I don’t really wanna talk- “

“ -okay, listen- “

“ -at all- “

“ -just wait- “

“ -with you.” 

“I know, just- just hear me out.” He sits on the stool, pausing before giving a nervous laugh, glancing over his shoulder. He slowly nods his head, finally looking at her. 

“Look, I was just getting out of jail when they told me about what- what happend, alright? Because I covered for John B. before he and Sarah… I don’t know, decided to run from the cops, or whatever. And I didn’t know what Rafe was gonna do- “

“Sorry, are you trying to defend yourself or apologize for Rafe? I can’t really tell…” She knew he had never been a man of many words, except when he rambled and ramble he did a lot. But she also knew he wasn’t very good with them either, and her patience was already depressingly thin to begin with. 

“What? No, look. I know you and Sarah were close when we started dating. And I know you just lost John B. but now, it’s like we both lost Sarah, okay?”

“It’s not a competition- “

“I know! I know, I mean, it all sucks and I don’t know what to do, but I guess I just came here to tell you that I told the cops he didn’t do it. Didn’t kill Peterkin.” He looked relieved when he finished, as if the act of talking exhausted him. She stares at him, wanting to snap at him. _What do you want? A thank you?_ Because Topper always did things for praise, not out of actually wanting to do it. But she holds back. 

She remembers the days in her Kook year, the way Sarah would go on and on about Topper, like he was everything she wanted and more. It made Kiara happy, seeing her friend so ecstatic, even though she didn;t much care for him. He was too prideful for her taste, always fishing for compliments and approval. Sure, he could get possessive at times, annoyingly so, but Sarah was the one who lied and cheated. But he spontaneously apparently covered for John B., without expecting anything in return, surprisingly. And now Sarah, the first girl he ever loved and the girl who helped her during the darkest year of her life, was gone.

As much as she hated it, it was something they very much had in common. 

She took a deep breath, looking down at the floor before looking back at him, who looked a little lost. Even if he was dead, Kiara knows a couple of people who would feel better if John B.’s name was cleared and Ward and Rafe were sent to prison. 

“How did you know Rafe did it and not John B.?”

“I just overheard the talk at the station, you know? It’s all they’re talking about, apparently John B. said it was Ward Cameron who killed his dad, too. Which is…” He holds both hands up to his temples, letting out a long sigh. 

“And you believe him?” It was almost disorienting, seeing Topper Thornton, King of the Kooks, looking so unsure, of himself and everything around him. He didn’t speak for a full minute. 

“I mean, I don’t know, I guess?”

“Don’t sound too confident, there.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, gesturing around him.

“I don’t know, man, I mean Rafe has always been a hothead, but he’s Sarah’s brother. And Ward, Sarah’s dad? It’s just insane, ya know?”

She didn’t feel the need to answer all of a sudden. He didn’t look like he was expecting an answer, either. 

She glances up at the clock. 

“Shit.” 

She runs into the back of the kitchen and grabs her bag, digging out the keys to her car. Her parents told her about the cops showing up at their house, which her mother was upset about, mainly because it made them look bad, having police cruisers pulled into their driveway. Kiara had just rolled her eyes, giving her a dirty look. Her mother didn’t appreciate it at all. 

_“I’m sorry, what did I do wrong this time?”_

_“Really? You care more about the way it looks, having the cops here, rather than why they’re here!” Kiara pushed past her and started walking towards the stairs, wanting to be nowhere but her room, alone where there was quiet. Her mother, once again, didn’t appreciate it._

_“Kiara, do not walk away in the middle of a conversation! What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_Kiara turned from where she stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking at her mother through the blurriness of frustration._

_“It means they just came to tell me that I need to go and make a statement about why my dead best friend didn’t kill the Sheriff, and all you care about is the neighbors opinions of us! Don’t act like you don’t see it!”_

Only her mother could get her worked up to the point of almost screaming. 

Topper looked at her a little confused when she walked by but she ignored him, pushing through the door and hopping in her car, dread filling her stomach. 

When she pulled into the little parking lot to the station, she noticed JJ’s bike parked in the front. Pulling the key from the ignition, she takes a deep breath, stepping out into the foggy drizzle. The air was muggy, leaving her clothes feeling damp against her skin, her hair a frizzy mess. 

As soon as she stepped in the station, a wave of air conditioning hit her, making her hyper aware of the sweat on her face and arms. The woman at the front desk tells her to sit and wait. So she does. 

For almost half an hour. 

She's started bouncing her legs, trying to stop biting her lips when she hears muffled shouting. It’s loud enough to where the lady at the front desk starts glancing in the back. Kiara can’t make out the words but brings a hand up to her forehead when she realizes who the voice belongs to. 

As if right on cue, Kiara flinches when the door to the back room flies open, revealing JJ, flushed in the face and hands balled into fists. The woman at the desk jumps as well, getting up to stop JJ before Shoupe steps out of the room. 

“Let him go.” he says, defeated, hands on his hips. 

“JJ.” Kiara stands right when JJ storms past her, almost as if she wasn’t even there, throwing open the door to the parking lot. 

He’s gone before she even reaches the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was somewhat difficult to conjure mainly because I focused on a scene that made me bail from the show for 3 months but that's okay. 
> 
> I love your thoughts and opinions so please share :)


	6. Torrential Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Deserve?” She almost shouts it, uncrossing her arms to steady herself on the dock. “It’s not about deserving, JJ! I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere!” Now her face wasn’t angry anymore, but urgent, looking distressed. He didn’t know if he was exactly the reason for it but hated it regardless. 
> 
> Or JJ and Kiara talk and cook and maybe do some other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty loaded chapter, way longer than the rest. It was kind of hard to write because it goes into JJ's disorder but it has other parts that helped balance it out.

It wasn’t kept from anyone’s knowledge that JJ had his fair share of waking up to warm bodies who would be gone before breakfast but there was something to be said about the ones that stayed. Not that he had much experience with those, but after waking up next to Kie, he could see himself getting used to it. Wanted it, even. 

It was a thought he always pushed away because he wasn’t stupid, actually more perceptive than people gave him credit for, so he knew a hint when he saw one and over the years, they were what followed his scattered comments and harmless flirting. It was reciprocated but not in the way that ever gave him the okay to open that door. He tried, but understood that it was simply closed for him. It was fun and familiar, the two of them sometimes catching the other off guard at the offhandedness of their banter. Once it started turning into something that was done with ease, the level of subtlety became something of a challenge. Both of them had an unspoken agreement of when it was okay to be a little more open, rather than disguising the words, and he’d be lying if he said he got tired of it. 

The amount of respect he had for Kiara was something that couldn’t really be explained with words, even if he woke up one day and was good with them, so he knew her boundaries and never crossed any lines that she wasn’t comfortable with. It wasn’t even a question. 

Over the last couple of days, though, it was hard to ignore how he felt closer to her than ever before. He wondered if she felt it too but swore not to dwell on it. All of their nerves were shot to hell after everything and it wasn’t fair to either of them to think their closeness was bred out of anything more than losing their friends. 

Yeah, dwelling was the last thing he needed. 

The cold was what seemed to wake him up and he couldn’t help but vaguely remember the conversation they had before falling asleep. Apparently the temperature had dropped at night, though he would never tell Kiara that, as he woke with the comforter pulled over him, laying in the middle of the bed, trying to find warmth. The sheet he fought so hard over last night was wrapped around both of them and he couldn’t really bring himself to tug it away from Kie. He cracked his eyes open to the dark room, smelling the familiar scent of coconut shampoo, this time by his face, and instantly felt his body melt into the bed as everything came back to him. It made him want to ease back into unconsciousness more than anything and was well on his way until he heard his phone vibrate on the bedside table. There weren’t many people who tried to get a hold of him so early, usually only ever John B. asking if he wanted to fish before the sunrise and he knew that was no longer the case, so he carefully maneuvered himself so as to not wake Kiara, reaching for his phone and trying to blink the message into focus 

It wasn’t so much the message that pissed him off, even though most of the rare texts he did receive from his father weren’t exactly fun to read, so much as what it meant he had to do. It’s not like he didn’t know it was coming, but he also knew he couldn’t push it off, not wanting to think about what would happen if he got into any more trouble with the cops. So he gently rolled out of bed, making sure to rearrange the blankets over Kiara’s shoulders and left. 

Even if he hated every minute of it.

The pressure around his lungs started squeezing the second he stepped in the station and didn’t seem to ease up much after. The talk started out as civil as it could be; he held his tongue where necessary and responded honestly where it fit. In other words, a rehearsed balance between the truth and a lie that would keep John B. out of trouble, whether he was dead or not, because in JJ’s eyes, that’s where he deserved to be. The gold hunt was hard to leave out, as it was tied to John B. through his dad, so he just chose to leave out all the trespassing and the stealing. He could tell Shoupe didn’t believe every word, but JJ was ready to challenge him if the time came. And of course, about half an hour in, it came. 

“So you’re sayin’ that you weren’t there when Rafe Cameron supposedly shot Sheriff Peterkin, is that right?” Shoupe was standing, occasionally pacing a few steps around the small office, putting JJ on edge. He was flipping through a faded notepad as he spoke, his eyes tiredly glancing between the sheets and JJ, who sat in a chair against the glass windows. He started rubbing the bridge of his nose, a sharp tension headache blossoming at his temples. He cleared his scratchy throat. 

“No disrespect,” Shoupe looks as though making an effort not to roll his eyes but fails, “but I’m not answering this question again. I don’t know how many times- how many different ways you need to hear it before you just admit- “

“Son, you’re on my time and frankly, I wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t have to- “

“Oh, that’s a fucking relief, _Deputy_.” 

“Jesus.” Shoupe drops the notepad, a little more forcefully than he intended, and pulls a chair around to plant it in front of JJ. JJ crosses his arms and shakes his head, looking at the floor, trying to hold back everything he wanted to yell at the man. 

“Why don’t you just drop the damn attitude for five minutes and then maybe we can leave before lunch. How’s that sound?” 

JJ doesn’t lift his eyes, chewing the inside of his cheek hard and bouncing his leg, trying to keep his temper as low as the man in front of him would allow. Shoupe waits for some form of acknowledgement before continuing, sounding more irritated. 

“Sounds like a yes. Now, you need to understand that your story doesn’t put you at the scene of the crime, therefore any statement you make regarding the murder of Peterkin- “ 

“You don’t think I know that!” JJ never really cared for Shoupe, knew by just the things he said that he was just as bad as the rest. Seeing him steal the money in the motel room just barely surprised him. “You don’t think I see what you’re doing!” At least Peterkin had a little sense in her, not such a corrupt head on her shoulders that she tried to actually help John B. and now look where it got her. Suddenly he stood, putting as much space in between them as he could in the small office. 

“Here I am, telling the fuckin’ truth for once but because it puts a Kook, a fucking Cameron, of all people, in the middle of it all, you’re gonna sit here and practically beg me to lie! Just so it fits- “

“You think I’m asking you to falsify your statement?” Shoupe gives a low laugh, one that usually comes from the adult who’s talking down to their ignorant child, one that shows that he knows he’s won. JJ hates it. “C’mon kid, I know you know better than that- “

“Why the fuck can’t you take my statement, then! Without poking fucking holes where there shouldn’t be holes- “ JJ doesn’t really hear himself anymore, shoving Shoupes arms off him and turning for the door. The night in the tent didn’t really compare to this, he thinks, as he throws his weight into the door. That night, it felt as if they had forced John B. right into the storm, to his supposed death. But now, it was like Shoupe was blatantly trying to kick it all under the rug, washing his hands, as if it never happened, manipulating up a story that sounds good. 

He felt like ripping his hair out when he passed Kiara in the lobby and didn’t think twice when he left her standing there, alone. A part of him scolded himself instantly because fuck, she didn’t deserve that. But the other part, the more dominant part, forced him to not turn back. He knew he could be there for her every chance he got, every time he saw her at her lowest, even when he himself felt nothing but guilt. But the idea of forcing Kiara to watch him at his worst, when he couldn’t really see straight and all he wanted to do was throw something, he knew she deserved that even less. 

So he left, feeling a little relieved when she didn’t follow.   
\--  
The sky drizzles a pathetic yet constant drizzle, causing the gravel on the side of the road to turn into mud and the road to become slick. He almost crashes three times on his drive, not really sure if it’s from the road or his insanely unsteady train of thoughts.

He vaguely remembers Kiara telling him how stupid it was to drive when he “got in one of his moods”, how it wasn’t only endangering himself but others as well and he almost stops then and there because her and her damn logic stuck in his head like that. He assumed what he was feeling at the moment was what she was referring to. The tight feeling in his chest, the way his hands shook and his head spun. 

Time blurred between the moment he left the station to where he now sat at the end of the dock, staring out at the water as his fingers jerked his Zippo open before flipping it shut, repeating the motion. Over and over and over again. The wood underneath him was soggy but he couldn’t really bring himself to care as he hung his legs over the edge, leaning his head against the post that felt like it didn’t have much life left in it. 

The air was damp but the temperature was no longer stuffy. There was a light fog sitting on the water and he just stared at it, feeling the anger start to steadily dissipate, leaving him in that weird in-between place of guilt and nothing at all. Over the last couple of days, he has been trying his hand at reasoning with himself, trying to unpack the utter mindfuck the last week has put him through. Someone else had always been there to do it for him, but he knew better than to rely on people like that. People, who changed, who used, who simply left. It was unfamiliar and complicated as hell and the harder he tried, the more he understood why being impulsive had such an appeal towards him. Not that it was always a conscious choice to jump into the deep end. Habit, sure. Second nature, definitely. But for as long as he could remember, it felt like he didn’t really know any better, in the moments before he acted. That was the problem, he did it without thinking. His ‘episodes’ are never planned, coming and going as they very well fucking please. 

He would needlessly steal as a kid every time he found himself in the corner store with his dad. Even after he was caught, even when he barely made it to the truck before his fathers hands were on him, the worst part about it was that he knew it was somehow not going to be the last time. It would always happen again, whether he liked it or not. If anything he felt lost, confused when he looked around and compared himself with others, who seemed effortlessly in control of themselves. He would look at John B. and Pope and wonder what the hell was wrong with him and if they noticed. As if feeling out of control wasn’t bad enough, he bitterly added alienation to the list as well. 

He compared himself to the Pogues more often than he realized, always wondering if he was really fucking up as much as his dad told him he was. He noticed the way they would react to things, how they would handle how they felt, usually not swinging their fists the first chances they got. Pope was open enough but only preferred to seek out help when it got really bad, although he rarely had to outwardly ask because the guy couldn’t hold a poker face to save his life. Kiara held herself humbly, showing no shame in crying when she was sad or laughing when she was happy or cursing when she was pissed, staying grounded by constantly surrounding herself with things that brought her comfort. It was admirable to watch at times, JJ thought, curious as to if it came to her as naturally as she made it seem. John B., who was really the only person JJ could relate to, bottled things up until he couldn’t, usually letting it out at unplanned times. So for the most part, he didn’t feel like as much of a fuck up around the Pogues as he did everywhere else. This was reasoning, right?

Suddenly he heard footsteps gently walking down the dock, stopping right behind him. He felt the board underneath him bend slightly. He continued flipping his lighter, taking a guess as to who it was. 

“I’m guessing Shoupe didn’t like your story either.” 

She doesn’t say anything at first, so he goes on, still staring out at the water. 

“You know, they say you are your own worst critic, but you get in front of that guy and holy shit, you’ve got no chance whatsoever- “ 

“What the hell, JJ?” 

“Hmm?”

She stands for a minute longer without saying anything, making him look over his shoulder. He stops flipping the lighter. She’s crossing her arms, not really looking at him but down at the dock, where he could see tears in her eyes. Her face wasn’t upset, he could tell it was because she was mad. She creases her eyebrows before lowering herself to her bare knees, leaning on her sandals. 

“I think… we need to start thinking about it if they don’t arrest Rafe. If John B. stays the murderer of Peterkin, I mean.” She looked disgusted just saying it. 

Now he’s staring at her, waiting for more, waiting for something to clear the wall of confusion that just fell on him, but apparently that’s all she had. Now it’s her turn to peer out at the water, crossing her arms but more as though she’s hugging her middle. 

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks stupidly. She glares at him. 

“You know what I mean, JJ- “

“Then maybe I misheard you. Because there’s no way you just said what I think you said- “ he chided. 

“Don’t be a dick.” she says with absolutely no force behind it, almost tiredly, disinterested. “I think we both know how this is all gonna play out if we keep thinking John B. is going to get any form of justice. I mean you heard Shoupe- “

“Shoupes an asshole. He’s just one guy- “

“JJ, you know it’s not just him. Plus, you don’t believe in cops anyways.” She squeezes her arms, looking between him and the water. He turns so his body is facing hers, giving a dry laugh. 

“So you’re giving up?”

She shoots him another glare, this time looking at him exasperated. 

“Jesus, giving up on what? On changing a bunch of Kook’s minds on who killed the Sheriff? Really? Because there’s no fucking point and you know it! I thought you were the one wanting Pope to stop denying- “

“I’m not denying, Kie, I’m just… not used to seeing you so cynical.” It’s only half a joke. He was at a rare loss of words, seeing Kiara so… defeated. He suddenly felt like he switched roles with Pope, as Kiara took over as him. It was oddly perplexing. She lets out a frustrated breath, looking a little lost herself. 

“Yo! I’m being serious! You think I wanna give up on JB? You think I wanna see his name attached to murder for the rest of my life?” Her voice wavered, her face a mixture between helplessness and anger. “Look, I’m just being realistic ‘cause I’m fucking tired of thinking it’ll straighten itself out the way it’s supposed to go, all right?” She spoke as if offering some form of truce, wanting to reach a compromise. 

He doesn’t answer her verbally and maybe that’s a mistake. Maybe verbal reassurances was what she needed right now. 

“What! Are you mad? Are you not? Are you gonna fuckin’ storm off somewhere- “

He jerks his head towards her, giving her a look. 

“The fuck does that mean?”

She threw her arms up. “I mean I’m not asking for a damn therapy session but you know you can talk to me! I’m right here, I always have been, going through the same shit- “

“I wouldn’t be so sure- “

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He quickly looked around as they both raised their voices. This wasn’t the first time they argued. They both got hot headed and sometimes it happened at the same time. The fact that they both sucked with words didn’t exactly help the matter either. 

“I am pissed! I’m tired too, of all of it! And I fucking blame myself. All the time. Is that what you want me to say, Kie? Is that what you wanna hear- “ He knew it was unfair but he also could sense both of them holding back from each other up until now and apparently couldn’t function properly while doing so. An argument always spilled over if they didn’t figure their shit out in time, always has. But they also haven’t had a problem with opening up before though so why the fuck not now. She gives a choked scoff, running her hands over her face and through her hair. 

“JJ- “

“No, Kie, I wish I could feel what you feel, all right? But instead it’s just me putting blame on myself and hating the fact that I can’t even feel sad because of how pissed I am. My best friend is dead and I can’t even feel…” He stops because his word vomit falters. He was reasoning out loud and didn’t really know where to go from here. He can’t stand the look on Kiara’s face so he looks away, running his hand through his own hair. When she does speak, it’s soft and hesitant. 

“It’s okay to feel like that… it’s not wrong. I’m just sayin’ you’re not going through it alone, you have Pope and I- “

“And what happens when you two leave? It’s gonna happen, Kie, and I’d rather not deserve you now- “

“Deserve?” she almost shouts it, uncrossing her arms to steady herself on the dock. “It’s not about deserving, JJ! I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere!” Now her face wasn’t angry anymore, but urgent, looking distressed. He didn’t know if he was exactly the reason for it but hated it regardless. 

The words strike a memory, a conversation they’ve had before, during her Kook year. After JJ heard the news about Big John going missing, he thoughtlessly found himself at Kiara’s house, even after months of not seeing each other, months of not talking to each other in person, only the occasional text here and there. She had gotten upset with him then, too, for assuming he had to deal with everything himself. It seemed to genuinely hurt her whenever he did this, which made it even harder for him to stomach the fact that distancing himself wasn’t always in his control. It was a vicious cycle, has been his whole life. He needed to hear the words, replayed them over and over in his head dozens of times as if it would make it any easier. Part of him knew she was there, obviously, always has been and probably always will be, but that part didn’t really matter when considering the part that insisted people leaving was bound to happen, a natural, shitty part of life. It has happened and it will happen and protecting himself was always instinct. 

“You don’t have to deserve help.” 

This time he looks at her carefully. The sky was grey, it had been all day and judging by the dark clouds staining the sun, the rain was only taking a short break. JJ loved the rain, loved the smell and loved paddling out in the water even though it wasn’t safe to be swimming. He and John B. would ride their bikes when it started to pour, racing each other as the drops beat down on their faces and arms, purposely taking winding paths just to see who would last the longest before wiping out. It was stupid but the fun kind. But now, as he felt the wind start to pick up, a mix between a rush of warm and cool air, he didn’t feel excited about being reckless in the rain. Didn’t think about all the stupid shit he could get into. The gloom only stood as a reminder of the storm a couple of nights ago and he didn’t want to stand out in the downpour for once. He wanted to go inside and ignore it all. 

“Say something. Please.” The discomfort in her voice makes him realize he hadn’t spoken for a minute, lost in thought, trying to find the words. 

“I don’t know, Kie, I can’t just speak my mind like you. It’s not until shit gets really bad that I actually notice it at all. And I know you’re here, trust me, I do, but don’t think it’s anything against you- “

“I know it might be hard, since your mom… and Big John and now John B.- “ Her voice breaks so she stops, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. He feels rigid all of a sudden, not knowing whether to reach out or let her compose herself. Her eyes meet his, filled with a reassurance that makes him hang on to her every word. She speaks slowly, blinking at him with so much sincerity he cannot tear his eyes away. 

“But I’m not going anywhere. I’m not. And I want to be here for you, that’s my choice.” she gives a quiet chuckle, glancing down as if to lighten the weight of her words. “Pogues for life or not, I’m not going anywhere.” 

And just like that, the weight leaves his chest and he’s left speechless yet again. He nods at her, making sure she knows he’s not brushing her off, not taking it lightly whatsoever, and in return she gives him a small smile. 

A distant roll of thunder breaks the quiet, lasting a few seconds before dying out. Kiara looks up into the sky, big brown eyes scanning the clouds as she starts to stand. She stretches her back before clearing her throat, looking over her shoulder down the dock. 

“You hungry?” 

He pushes the damp hair from his forehead and peers up at her, noticing the exhaustion in her face. The growing moisture in the air has stuck to their clothes, skin, and hair, making them look completely worn out. Her frizzy hair sits on her shoulders as her clothes hang limp on her body, making him very aware of his own clothes, which stuck to his chest and legs uncomfortably. Obviously he could eat, would normally question why she was even asking, but he didn’t want to make her feel like he needed someone to watch after him. He pauses before shaking his head abruptly. 

“Nah, I think I’m just gonna head home, call it a night.” 

She gives him a look. “It’s literally only like two. And I know you’re hungry.” 

“Oh, so when you were asking, you weren’t _actually_ asking.” 

She leans down and grabs his hands, pulling them up with her. “Obviously.” 

He had to fight to keep the smile off his face. “Kie, it’s fine- “

“C’mon, it’s gonna start raining.” 

He let her drag him to his feet as well as down the dock, in a quick pace all of a sudden. He swings his arms with hers dramatically, dragging his feet along the boards. 

“You afraid of a little rain?”

“I don’t want you driving in it, can’t you feel the wind?” 

The smirk leaves his face when she drops his hands when they reach his bike and that’s when he really noticed the storm picking up, the wind tossing their clothes and hair around. She’s already to her car when she yells over her shoulder. 

“Meet me at the Chateau! And don’t crash or I swear to God- ” 

Then she’s driving away before he can say anything. He smiles at the ground, shaking his head before climbing onto the bike. The emotional whiplash she manages to put him through never fails to impress him.  
\--  
“Be honest, do you think John B. ever consciously bought something that would last anything less than three weeks in the fridge? Like a vegetable, perhaps.” 

She pulls another container out of the refrigerator, this time a small plastic dish with some sort of dip inside. She cracked the lid open, giving it a sniff before scrunching up her face, placing it in the trash bag JJ was holding behind her. 

“Preservatives are good for you, Kie, it keeps us boys youthful and glowing.” JJ says thoughtfully, making Kiara raise her eyebrows as she reaches for a plate with tinfoil wrapped over it, preparing herself for what’s underneath.

“That’s not seriously something you tell yourself…” She breathes out when she reveals the plates contents, a lump of meat of some unknown animal, making JJ exaggerate a gagging noise before she dumps it in the bag as well. It hits the bottom of the bag with a weight that pulls the strings out of JJ’s hands, falling to the floor with a squish, landing on the toe of his boot. 

“Oh hell no- “ He lets out a sound of disapproval, shaking his head quickly. “If there’s a hole in this bag, I’m showering in bleach and then Holy water.”

She snorts loudly, searching further through the refridgerator while mumbling “The fuck?”

He grabs a nearby spatula and bends over, halfheartedly poking the bag as if it’s a creature about to attack. She glances at him, a laugh escaping her throat. 

“It’s not alive, dipshit.”

“Oh, but it is though.” 

She shakes her head, swiveling back to the shelves and drawers. “You know this is kinda your doing as well, you basically live here part-time. It’s not that hard to have a semi decent diet.”

JJ looks around the kitchen. “We have Cheerios. Those gotta be good for you, right? Like, for your heart and stuff?”

“Maybe not with expired milk.” She raises a quart of spoiled milk to the opening of the reacquired bag in his hands. “Brace yourself.” She only half jokes, watching him tighten his hold on the strings and turn his head away as she drops the carton.

She lets out a breathless laugh at his overly disgusted face before turning to shut the refrigerator doors, brushing her hands together in an emphasized gesture.

“That’s it?”

She nods. “Yeah, now we have damage control.”

He spins the bag carefully, tying the strings, jerking his head up to get the hair off his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we don’t even have moldy food to work with now, so we have to go to the store.” She starts walking to the table by the door to find where she dropped her keys. He doesn’t answer at first. 

“You’re cooking?”

“Hell yeah I’m cooking, I’m tired of food from The Wreck, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, giving her a knowing look. “Food is food, Kie.” 

She purses her lips, nodding to the limp bag at his feet. “Right. Grab the bag.”

JJ peered outside through the porch and saw buckets of rain trailing from the roof and shook his head a little. He didn’t love the idea of her driving in what had to be small lakes at this point, but he picked up the bad regardless, following her outside to her car. It was spending time with her after all and not much had made him smile today as much as she did so why the hell not. He could tell she was secretly enjoying it too, even if it was scooping fucking diseased food out of the kitchen and getting soaked while running in the mud towards the car. Something about it wasn’t terrible and he considered that progress from the last couple of days.  
\--  
The drive over to the store was the equivalent of trying to walk the one time Heyward polished the hardwood floors in his house. Pope had JJ and John B. over for the night and JJ was sure Heyward regretted it the entire time. After spending well over an hour on the living room, John B. and JJ immediately took the opportunity to run in their socks, bumping into each other and every piece of furniture that lived in that room, trying to push the other over, making both of them lose their balance every time. Pope pretended not to approve but had a grin on his face every time his dad wasn’t looking. Sitting in the passenger seat felt different only in the way that he wasn’t enjoying it at all. He tried slumping back in the seat, pulling his cap over his eyes but all that did was make him nauseous as Kiara fought to control the wheel. 

He ended up smoking a joint, knowing that Kiara’s parents wouldn’t care if her car smelled like weed. He knew Kiara was a good driver but he could also barely hear himself think over the rain hitting the hood and windshield and nearly threw himself out of the car when they made it back to the Chateau. 

“Never again!” he shouted over the downpour as they both gathered as many bags out of the backseat as they could without having to make more trips. Walking up to the screen door, Kiara almost slips twice in the little river they had going in front of the house. JJ tried to grab her arm every time, which only seemed to make her laugh harder and harder. 

They made it inside and instantly dropped their groceries to the floor. JJ wiped a hand across his wet face, shaking his shirt out, watching Kiara wring her sopping hair out on the porch as she almost doubled over. The sight made it hard not to laugh himself.

“What the fuck is so funny?” 

“I don’t know! You’re just so stressed out!” She gives a breathy giggle as she wipes a wet brow, barely holding in another laugh. 

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this so much.” He avowed, shaking his head at her. “Who’s shitty idea was that again?”

“It was fine!”

“You hydroplaned like fifteen times, dude! Like before we even left the parking lot!” He was cut off by the toss of a carton of chicken stock. 

“But we have food now.”

“Touche.” He turns to the kitchen, carrying a bag to the counter. “All that fearing for my life actually just made me more hungry.” 

Kiara raises her eyebrows at him before bringing her own bags to the counter. “Wow, you must’ve had a really good driver to get you through life threatening torrential rain.”

“Uh,” He pauses for affect, “she was okay, I guess.” A smirk pulled at his lips before she nudged him aside with her body, digging into the bag he was unloading. 

“I think you should start cutting vegetables before you give yourself an ulcer.”

Half an hour later, JJ was standing behind Kiara, a knife in his mouth while attempting to tie her damp hair back while she had both hands stirring multiple pots and pans. He didn’t know how she did it, keeping track of all the foods. His eyes glanced over the stove, which held more pans than he ever remembered seeing, a variety of colors that were a rare sight for this particular kitchen. John B. didn’t really cook, neither had his dad. The only person who was really ever inclined to actually use the stove was Kiara, occasionally bringing over various tupperware containers for simple meals. She tried to teach the Pogues different recipes, probably out of pity than anything else, and the only one who really took was Pope. JJ and John B. weren’t patient or nearly attentive enough, always getting too carried away with taste testing everything rather than actually cooking it.

He could tell she enjoyed it though, probably from growing up around it. And she was good, too, he can’t really recall a meal she cooked that hadn’t left his mouth watering at just the mere memory.

“Ow.” She said it patiently as she stirred a pot of rice while alternating between sautéing two pans of chicken and sausage and a mixture of onion, pepper, jalapñeo and celery. 

“Sorry, you just have so much hair- “ He spoke with the knife between his teeth, water annoyingly running down his arms from where he washed garlic clove remnants from his hands before getting to her hair.

“Just throw it up.” 

“Yeah, I’m trying.”

“I’m also gonna need the garlic soon.” 

“Mhmm.” 

The windows around the living room began to fog up by the time Kiara started reaching in the cabinets for bowls. JJ washed his hands for the umpteeth time before tossing a hand towel aside and walking over to the door, propping it open in hopes to relieve the temperature. It was a small ass kitchen and between the two of them, constantly moving around a hot stove and reaching over each other for utensils and ingredients, he hoped the spices wouldn’t pack too much of a punch. 

He stood by the door for a moment, staring out at the yard, at the sitting van, which now had mud splattered at the bottom half, more than normal. He rubbed his neck and just stared at it, suddenly feeling sick. 

The sound of Kiara humming to a song pulled him from his thoughts. She set her phone facing upward, one bowl in hand as she did so, so the music could play out over the sound of rain that has calmed immensely over the time it took to cook. She grabbed the other bowl and walked into the living room, placing it down on the small table before dropping down into the pullout. 

“I’ve only ever made Jambalaya once before.” she commented, looking into the bowl as she stirred her fork around. He finally tore his eyes away from the van and dropped right next to her, picking up the bowl, 

“It’s obviously going to taste amazing.” he mumbles, impetuous as he shovels a spoonful in his mouth. He sinks back into the couch, eyes closed, holding the bowl on his chest for a second. She does the same, pondering over the bite a little longer than him before falling back into the cushions. 

“So worth the wait.” 

She looks over to him. “Even after all the complaining you did- “

“Agree to disagree, going out was a really fuckin’ shady move.” 

“Sure.” she says through a mouthful of food, looking at him a little mischievously. They sit quietly, listening to the soft music shuffling through the warm air, the sound of rain pattering around them and silverware scraping the bottom of the dishes filling up the emptiness. It felt off, just the two of them, like there was something missing. Obviously there was, but it didn’t feel like they were in the wrong in any way. JJ liked being in Kiara’s company but tonight it was different. Like one of them needed to be in the same room as the other or else emotional shit would hit the fan. It was surprisingly comforting, almost disorienting, as JJ sat on the couch, occasionally glancing over at Kie. 

“Did you see what Pope was up to?” he asked nonchalantly through bites of rice and chicken. 

“His parents basically have him on house arrest.” 

“Ah.” 

Her bowl has been empty for a while when she speaks again. 

“I’m gonna miss eating shitty food with the four of us.” 

Not what he expected. It catches him off guard, making him want to go back to the silence, not having to think about how it’s too soon to be talking like that. It’s too fresh to be reminiscing over simple shit they used to do together. He shakes his head before he realizes it. 

“I don’t really think we should be thinking about shit like that.”

She looks around the room miserably, rubbing her eye while giving a dry laugh. “I can’t really help it, he’s fucking everywhere, ya know?” She helplessly gestures around her. He couldn’t agree more with her. Every day he’s been reminded by the smallest of things, to the point where it’s a little unbearable, and he can’t really accept the idea of it. He was already gone, so why the fuck did everything have to remind him? 

A quiet acoustic song starts playing from the phone, gentle chords loosening the tension in the room. JJ had heard it from her phone only a couple of other times, usually when she tiredly swayed to the music, not in the mood to talk or explain anything, just wanting to sit back and let her thoughts innocently wander. He hoped the song had that effect on her now, that her thoughts would revolve around something not so heavy for once. 

At some point he had gotten to his feet, placing the bowl down and grabbing her bowl to do the same, before reaching for her hands. She seemed to immediately catch on, letting a sad smile cross her face as she stood with him, He held his arms around her waist as she held hers on his shoulders, setting her head near his neck. He could smell the scent of rain, only traces of the usual coconut fragrance in her hair as they swayed slowly, feeling the way she held him close, confidently, securely. It put a sense of bliss in him, dizzying, tingling bliss, holding her like there was no other person or place that mattered. He welcomed it. It was beyond him how they got here, not completely aware of their closeness until this very moment, not physically, but as a tempestuous intimacy he could never quite figure out but knew they shared. It was all but grounding until she pulled her head away and his lips found hers. She barely went still in his arms, kissing back after a moment before he pulled away, quicker than he would’ve liked. 

“Fuck, Kie, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean- “

She gave a gentle, breathless laugh, holding back the guilt that JJ swore had to be there, as she reached her hand to the side of his face, shaking her head a little.

“It’s okay.” 

Her reassurances have a way with him that he’ll never get over. It’s timid, forcing him to really look at her before she leans in this time, meeting his lips. He lets it happen, not wanting to think about if he’ll regret it later because that was laters problem and he couldn’t really see anything past now. She then breaks away, giving him that look she’s given him so many times before, one that says “you’re fine.”, before setting her head back into the crook of his neck. 

After a moment, his arms hug her a little tighter, to rid himself of doubt and confusion which his logical thoughts are bringing a fuck ton of. When she squeezes back, though, the thoughts stop, and a special ease washes over him that lets him just feel. Feelings he would try to revisit later on even though doing so wouldn’t even come close to doing them justice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually associate songs with my writing but the song I visualized in the last scene was called "Save Yourself" by KALEO. I've known of this song for years and only recently did I listen to it and think of these two beautiful people :)


	7. Emotional Consequences & Scattering Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And in Kiaras defence, she didn’t expect that the emotional consequences of prolonged grudge holding and bitter confrontation avoidance would come so soon, hitting her with waves of guilt and the need to isolate. 
> 
> Or, Kiara reflects on her relationship with Sarah and JJ opens up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!! 
> 
> There are a few mentions of depression and related themes in this chapter, for anyone who needs a heads up.

The next day, The Phantom was found on the shore and no bodies were recovered but somehow that didn’t make a difference. 

Kiara couldn’t seem to find her voice despite Popes efforts on seeing if she was okay. Every bit of hope one whether she would see John B. or Sarah again had vanished without a trace or her consent, leaving her utterly lost, stumbling in the disorienting dark that has become Kildare and everything around her. 

It was something she was going to have to tend to eventually, the guilt left by her relationship with Sarah. Doing so would have to wait if it were up to her, but since when was that the case? She knew from experience on what happened when she suppressed or blatantly ignored things, so by doing so, she wouldn’t be doing herself any favors. But on the other hand, the thought of trying to dig herself out of whatever fucking hole she’s found herself in over the years, ever since crossing paths with the Kook princess, it makes her sick. 

Sarah was once an untouchable person in her eyes, someone who everyone put a label on and in no way went unnoticed. Kiara was quick to judge her out of habit, out of self protection, perhaps, not wanting to get pulled into the Kook life anymore than she already was by her parents. 

But then she was miserable. 

And miserable had never looked as ugly for Kiara as it had the nights leading up to finally connecting with Sarah, the nights leading up to the tidal wave that finally pulled her under, the nights when she saw Sarah as a girl and not a direct product of everything she hated. The nights where she couldn’t actually articulate why she was drinking by herself when her mother had come home to find her crying on the bathroom floor, or when she wouldn’t leave bed for days at a time until her dad pulled her out of the house to work a shift at the restaurant. She was shamelessly close to ending it when Sarah saved her. Because that’s exactly how she saw it when Sarah had smiled her smile and offered her company in such a manner Kiara would’ve never anticipated. After that, she welcomed the distractions and even let herself become immersed in the moments where there wasn’t a gaping chasm forcing her to self sabotage. Of course, Sarah wasn’t an exact miracle, but that’s when her mother suggested the medication and finally it felt like the world wasn’t ending for once. She started convincing herself it was for the best, staying away from The Cut and spending her weekends with Kooks. That if she wanted to get to a place where she could see her Pogues again, she would have to focus on lighter, more superficial things, things she never paid much care towards. 

Her mother was always scolding her on her habit of purposely making things difficult for herself, that everything she felt was self inflicted, brought on by her own recklessness and stubbornness. So she stopped going down paths the old Kiara would trek, convincing herself it was okay to let Sarah help her pave new ones. It felt off but it was keeping her afloat, regardless. 

Then that familiar comforting face that she had let into her life pushed Kiara out almost just as swiftly, with no warning or explanation. So Kiara, still in the practice of controlling her seemingly constant spiralling emotions, pushed back, not feeling the need to give excuses. 

And in Kiaras defence, she didn’t expect that the emotional consequences of prolonged grudge holding and bitter confrontation avoidance would come so soon, hitting her with waves of guilt and the need to isolate. 

Maybe pushing herself away was what started her shitty descent into what she thought was something she could handle by herself, but then she thinks about all the time she’s spent filled with hatred and anger and betrayal, time she’s never getting back. She thinks of how The Phantom also took her best friend, the boy who was the first person to ever make her feel welcomed and comfortable in her own skin, with warm eyes and tight hugs and a smile she could still see clear as day. She suddenly feels oddly deserving of being alone. 

She blinks at the spot where she had been staring at long enough to make her eyes sting, looking up to find JJ staring at her. He’s not asking or trying to say anything with his eyes, just studying her as if he’s sorting through his own inner turmoil she was certain he was experiencing at the moment. His arms are pulled close to his body as he crosses and uncrosses them impatiently, chewing on the inside of his mouth as his eyes fall to the ground. Her hand unconsciously reaches for her necklaces as she too glances at the ground when she realizes Pope has been talking. 

“-guess he thinks I need to be distracted, and I don’t completely think he’s wrong. It gives me something to fixate on that’s not relevant to the shitshow that has been my life for the last couple of weeks, even if it’s just delivering food- “

Kiara nods, even though she’s not fully listening, rolling the beads around her neck in between her fingers as she looks at Pope. Fixating. Right. One of the first things she found she had in common with Pope, something they could always relate to. Pope was almost no better than her on efficiently compartmentalizing for the sake of sanity and she was sure it would one day be the death of one of them, if not both. 

Pope stops talking, his words trailing off once he reads the room. The dock, more like. They were all left standing on the old wooden boards after Pope had driven over, wanting them to hear the news from him and not some Kook or in the form of gossip in town. It’s as if delivering the news in or near the Chateau was an unspoken wrongdoing, leading to them slowly moseying away from the property until they found themselves near the water. 

JJ steps towards Pope, closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around Popes rigid limbs, a sight she’s seen enough times to put a bit of warmth through her. They don’t say anything, just clap eachothers shoulders the way boys do once Pope hugs back. Popes eyes catch hers. That same warmth brings her to placing her own arms around the two of them, dipping her forehead in JJ’s shoulder as they part their arms for her. She didn’t feel the need to cry but the physical contact was enough to make her breath hitch. Pope rubs her shoulder blade in response and they stay like that until JJ breaks away, turning to walk up the dock, hands clenched in his pockets. 

**Two Weeks Later.**

Kiara had once promised herself that she wouldn’t go back to the place of feeling unable to reach out and ask for help. Why would she? She had people who cared about her in her life. 

Right?

She’s not proud of the fact that her brain hesitates for an answer. It means she can’t really fully trust herself, knowing the familiar feeling of the filter that takes over when she’s fallen into tired old habits of trying to scatter the painful thoughts because doing so meant not thinking them head on and that meant hurting less. It was simple enough but also not at all and all she can do is throw her head back, eyes foggy from watching people all night in the scratchy too-tight dress, slouched against the wall in her stiff chair. It’s not lost on her, how shitty she feels, whether she’s scattering the thoughts or not. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was a hypocrite. Making JJ feel like he wasn’t alone just to ghost him for nearly two weeks, regardless if he was doing the same. It wasn’t right, ignoring her only two best friends, right? That’s not what you did, when you lost someone who was as close as family, when someone so special is ripped from your life instantly. 

Right?

She’s tried, multiple times, to pick up the phone, but bare minimum seemed to be the default lately. The standard that left her feeling like she tried and that it was enough because anymore would keep her up at night, collapsing under her relentless fucking insecurities and she’s not trying to have a repeat or relapse or whatever the hell it was called. It was her, trying to keep herself afloat, just like she’s always done. 

Except this time, the particular concept hits a little too close and she has to immediately start thinking about something else even though trying not to think about it is a form of thinking about it so she hopes her stubbornness gets her through it but she’s trying to distract herself with the intricate patterns on the table cloth but distractions are like playing with fire and- 

Her phone vibrates in its spot under her leg. Her mother had told her not to bring it, that she always used it as an out when she didn;t want to socialize and Kiara, for the life of her, couldn’t see the harm in it when the people she was forced to socialize with were walking checkbooks and arrogantly proud of it. She slips the phone out and tries not to clear her throat too awkwardly before answering it. 

“Pope.”

“Hey.”

She can hear the smile in his voice. Suddenly, annoyingly, she forgets how a conversation works. Sitting up a little straighter, she glances around, bringing her hand up to her chest where her necklaces sat. 

“Are you busy?” 

She sucks in a silent breath, looking around the yard that was decorated with twinkling string lights and overpriced patio furniture, the set her mother had been eyeing ever since the neighbors had set theirs up. She finds her dad, dressed in a polo, nearly identical to the rest of the husbands, laughing with a few adults by the grill. Her mother is standing with a couple of wives, gesturing to one of the delicate floral centerpieces, probably discussing her appreciation for the arrangement, never really being fond of when people failed to bring some sort of greenery to the table. 

Leaving sounded nice. 

“Not with anything I can’t drop. Where are you?”

She hears his subtle sound of amusement. 

“We’re meeting at Rixon’s. Just thought it’d be nice to, umm, you know, take the weight off, from the last couple of weeks.”

She was standing before he even finished the sentence, grabbing her heels from the grass by her chair and walking towards the part of the fence that separated her home from the neighbors, snagging a few cups of ice cream before leaving.

“Yeah, I’ll bring the snacks. Be there in fifteen.”

**Two Weeks Ago.**

“We can take it slow.” 

She made sure she had said it because JJ was holding back and she could tell. It wasn’t a suggestion as much as it was a fact, and she made that clear because she’d be lying if she said she felt entirely in the clear. She always knew JJ meant the world to her but lately it’s been the world and more, maybe without her even noticing it, but she’s careful with the discovery. Holding it like it was glass and too afraid to break it, she holds it close and meticulously, as if there was no other way to do so, hoping he’d do the same. Something inside her knew he would, without question. Maybe it was a mutual understanding and maybe it was because they knew each other too well for their own good, but the trust was almost overwhelming, leaving her nearly breathless at the very thought. To have someone so special. 

They were on the same page after that. 

The smell of food still hung in the warm air as she lies pressed against his chest, pulling the scratchy blanket closer to them while the sound of gentle rainfall fills the room. The lack of light made it so only dark figures could be seen from the faint glow of the light above the stove. Her head rests on his limp outstretched arm as she stares blankly across the room, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing against her back. She assumes he’s been asleep for a while, judging by the stillness of his body and the slowness of his chest, before his breath catches a bit, making her break her gaze. His voice comes out soft and nasally, filled with emotion that only came when it was 3a.m. with no outside eyes and he didn’t feel the need for hiding anything. 

“I want us to be okay for once, Kie.” 

She doesn’t answer at first, partly feeling a little lost at his words. She closes her eyes again and squeezes his hand placed on her waist reassuringly. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“I mean I don’t wanna mess this up. I think you know by now I have a tendency to fuck up a lot without meaning to- “

“I don’t think you really believe that, JJ.” She didn’t want to say it out loud but it sounded like they were his dad's words, not his own, and it hurt to hear the way he said them, like it was habit. A routine to reassess himself when something seemed too good for him. 

She starts running her fingers along his bracelets when he goes quiet again, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. Despite the humidity from the day, it was comfortable. JJ always ran hot over half the time anyways. 

“My mom, she left a note. Before she left. I wasn’t supposed to see it but I found it anyway when I got home from school. I didn’t understand it at first, ya know, why she would be telling my dad to take care of me. It also said a bunch of other stuff I just didn’t get as a kid, so I pretended I hadn’t seen it. Like she would be back, like she was just… stepping away for a minute. She did that sometimes, so I just assumed… And apparently my dad took the same approach, ignoring it. He acted like I wasn’t even there, not speaking for days.” 

JJ pauses, his voice growing more raw and his body becoming tense under her touch. She rubs the back of his hand softly, knowing openness wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for him, but knowing that when he did share something with someone, it was for a reason. 

“I remember thinking the note might as well’ve gone to Big John, since he was the one who started taking me to school and inviting me over for food and teaching me shit like fishing and how to read a map. John B was never good with geography homework. It was the day he finally… snapped, that I realized she was gone for good. And he made sure I knew who’s fault it was, too. That’s when I started coming over here, when I couldn’t really… I mean, he got so… consumed sometimes.”

Kiara could feel him shift deeper into the cushions, readjusting the blanket and clearing his throat. 

“I knew, no matter what, that JB was in my corner, though. Every time. Then his old man went missing and I was selfish enough to want normal, because so much shit changed after that, just when things were finally going okay. All I thought about was if he was coming back, because it’s not like he ever said goodbye and that’s supposedly what people do, right? Before they up and fucking leave. By then, I was waiting for your goodbye too, with your fuckin’ Kooklandia Academy trip, but it didn’t come. Thank fuck, by the way.”

She lets out a watery laugh at his small moment of humor despite the direction he was going. 

“Things were, once again, going fucking swimmingly, with or without that bitch that is Agatha. I mean we were all together, with a whole summer of nights and days to do whatever the fuck we wanted, really. And maybe I was ignorant, to think a complete nosedive was out of the question. Maybe I don’t learn, ya know. I should know by now the fucking record is broken.” He gives a soft, half hearted laugh, as if releasing some of the weight his words have put on them but also as though he’s finally reaching the thing he’s been building up towards and she’s not sure if she’s ready to hear it. 

“I just… I don’t think I can lose anyone else.”

She can no longer hold it back, sitting up slowly, his arm still sitting on her waist when she turns to face him. His eyes are tired and red and it makes her frown morph into something deeper, something that physically hurts. 

“You’re not ignorant. And you are the last person to be called selfish, JJ. It’s not even a question.” She shakes her head, as if to convey the weight she feels on her heart. 

“The first thing you do after stealing from a fucking drug dealer is try to split the money, as if it’s compensation that you were somehow responsible for. As if you’ve had enough money to go around your whole life.” She says it all like a question, trying to emphasize the meaning behind it all. “After John B very stupidly broke his arm, you wrote all of his homework even though he was perfectly capable of being a lefty. And all the evening on the water, when all you wanted to do was get high and swim, you were the one going through Popes flashcards until he felt as much semblance of confidence as he could possibly feel because we were too fed up with his never-ending jitters.”

JJ looks exhausted, sitting up further and running a hand through his messy hair. 

“Kie- “

“You do it without thinking, JJ, all of it. And I’m not even going to start with what you’ve done for me because you might not keep track, but I do, and it’s a fucking lot, okay? You don’t have to do any of it but you do and it matters. It means something. Every time. Just like you.”

For the second time today, she’s simply rendered him speechless and he’s not sure what to make of that. Kiara’s never been a disingenuous person, it was one of the many things that made her as beautiful as she was, but now, hell today, she’s let down walls that don’t appear to be coming up anytime soon and JJ admires it. 

It’s scary, he thinks, but a good kind of scary. Like she was giving him something only he would ever see. 

Despite being a sentimentalist down to her core, she decides that they can only handle so much baggage in one night and that JJ was easily not used to being in the emotional spotlight, so she lowers herself back into the couch, this time facing him. 

He’s studying her, a vulnerability in his tired face that would only ever show in the middle of the night. It makes him look younger, somehow, not so guarded. He finally decides to follow her movements, settling back into the pullout, a small lazy smile reaching his lips as he closes his eyes and sets his head down on the arm of the furniture.

“Is this what people do with all their built up, emotional, sappy shit?”

She hums in response, her own eyes slipping closed as she reaches for the blanket. His speech is slurring now. 

“Well I hate to tell you, but there’s more where it came from, so…”

“You’ve got me for good, so don’t go all stranger on me and feel pressured into getting it all out in one night, now.” 

They both let out long, breathy giddy laughs as they finally settle into each other's warmth, letting the fatigue wash over them gratefully. 

**Two Weeks Later.**

It was funny, when she thought of it. She somehow expected them to look different, the time spent away hitting her as she peers over her bottle of juice to watch Pope and JJ devour the ice cream cups. They don’t though. JJ has the same old messy hair and tattered bracelets that matched her own, same worn out shirt and oil stained cargo shorts. Pope still has a cap on his head, same loose button down T-shirt and bleached out sandals. It’s almost comforting, as if the time was for once forgiving instead of ruthless.

The small fire flickers across their faces as they sit around on whatever they had managed to find to sit on. For almost an hour, they had sat in a mix between silence and sharing stories of John B., even though for the most part, they were all present for said stories. JJ sat beside her and she could tell by the ease in his shoulders and lightness in his movements that he was feeling it too, the relief. 

She mentioned how much she felt like shit, but didn’t go into detail on why. They both seemed to pick up on it effortlessly.

“It’s fine, Kie. We all feel like shit. Don’t sit there and feel bad about this,” JJ moves his head around, as if referring to the three of them, “You have enough to worry about. This is just…” He gestures around vaguely with his plastic spoon, struggling for the words, “it takes time and shit.” 

Pope and Kiara nodded, a little too amused. 

“Some rarely optimistic words from JJ, everyone.” Pope says, mockingly impressed, “although could do with a bit more eloquence.” 

JJ kicked some dirt towards his leg, talking over a mouthful of ice cream. “Don’t be crass, my friend, truth hurts. No reason to sugarcoat it.” 

Kiara snorted, placing her bottle down and reaching for her own ice cream. “Now you’re just being a pessimist.” 

“A realist, more like.” JJ mutters, stating it as fact, scooping around the bottom of his cup. She catches his eye and smiles, feeling an overwhelming sense of reassurance when he smiles back. 

The bugs came out early which would’ve annoyed her any other day if not for the comfort surrounding her. She had pulled on a sweater before leaving her house, which only helped with the feeling and she welcomed the cool breeze that swept through the trees. What little sky she could make out through the treetops was black, a little daunting if not for the warm fire by her shins and the banter between the boys. It was in moments like this where she felt fortunately less inclined to scatter her thoughts, feeling safe enough to let them circulate and revolve, knowing they would soon pass and it was alleviating to say the least. Knowing the people sitting beside her would be there in case it got bad and the thought was indescribably nice. 

She looks over at the two, lazily holding up her ice cream cup, as if to make a toast. 

“Pogues for life, right?” 

They both reply in sync. 

“Pogues for life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has definitely been my emotional support fic for a while so luckily I have a few more works for the future haha 
> 
> Thanks for reading and stay safe for this new year :)
> 
> Also, for anyone wondering (probably no one) I'm planning to write the second part of this series after season 2 comes out. And regardless of whatever season 2 means for us, it'll likely follow the same structure as part 1 :)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the deal. There were just too many scenes in my head to not write this. I love the characters too much and the season left some loose ends that I wanted to start to tie up. There are already so many interpretations of what happens after the end of the season, but here I wanted to focus on what goes on in their heads, as well as how they attempt to approach normal. So more of that is yet to come. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thoughts are appreciated and feel free to come bother me on Tumblr @chestnutblondehead


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